Kerosene Stove Wick In The Ear Poem by Afrizal Malna

there is a yellow color spouting in my heart. why
did you come too early and put on those yellow
ears? no. i did not come, not too early, nor did i
put on yellow ears. i'm just the yellow color in
your heart.

why do you address me like that, as though
letting the needle of time insert the wick of a
kerosene stove into my ear? give me another
minute to strike a safety match. give me some
time to wash my feet before leaving. just a
minute to buy a bottle of kerosene. just a minute
to see the fire light up the dark pit of my ear, so i
can see the needle of time that has fallen into
that dark pit. so i can feel time the way i sniff the
odor of raw meat in the dark pit.

no. i will not let you go. i did not let you come
either. i am only looking at the wick of the
kerosene stove burning in your ear.

i only see fear, greatly aged, living in that dark
pit.

Translation: 2010, Nukila Amal