Fuse Of Dusk Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Too much graphite-
shadow current
and pewter are flowing

through an overcharged,
tight, fastened cable
of late creeping afternoon
too dark
to allow the soft

trickle of taupe
and tawny specks
to build a ceiling

rising with a darker tower
to roof an ochre dusk.

O goldenrod stitching
itself to sandy patches
of air that do not
hold across a spectrum
of graying shades.

But ivory and parchment
spray steer air,
dusk still in cream
feathers mixing a paint

of bright maroon
and redwood,
violet and damask
sheets still hanging

in a flint air,
their glue not catching.

(ii)

But they flap viridian
and sage wings across
air over-bearded
with hanging dreadlocks

of fur and wool
swinging under an old
monster's chin.

Graphite and cloud
times air spin
a charcoal centaur,

a greater onyx current
flowing to thicken air
with riding
pitch and ebony clouds.

The current darkens,
overheating
a cable, too much current
of dark dusk flowing.

(iii)

Wow look at those thick
dark clouds:
Too much current of darkness
flowing!

"The epoxy tube
housing
and the silica sand
filler of a falling night
are failing.

The bronze terminals
of night
ain't no good.
The fuse is mangled"

Before the mechanic
completes
his diagnosis
of too many onyx clouds

to contain
a graphite dusk,
night overtakes

dusk, as the sky explodes
into a roaring
rainstorm, its lion

carrying a wet
dark brown mane
soaked further
by heavier showers.