Violetta Simatupang


To A Young Man Who Flinched Me During The Pillow Talk - Poem by Violetta Simatupang

Ten years agone a fine looking young man with brown skin like mine
and brown eyeballs like mine. So brown the paddy fields mud glow
on our Island of the Gods.
Plunged his hands below the soil growing lifespan to rice and cranes
and exchanging smiles with the comical cranky scarecrow his cork prong so white, it lightened the landworkers heart.

We used to yackety-yack whilst going for a stroll,
preparing thousands seasoning for the suckling pig, an entree for tooth filing ceremony, but mostly whilst spending most times helping nurtures in the fieldsAbout he became a cameraman, I became young Roxanne.
We discussed movies festival in Cannes, our ancestor’s clan, ladies’ man,
of our gains and pains likewise constraints and complaints.

“ Hey” he said one day, “ Look, if you scoop deep into the mud,
you snatch the scrumptious eels with no thud”
I did and caught some fat slippery eels. But his eyes concealed.
“Oh, please dude, me, not in the mood! Dig deep to essence of life, catch honest feelings alive. Weary sentence, repeated 20 times, how bored I am” I teased. He wheezed.

We laughed a lot, and tied a little knot. We spent afternoons conversing exciting topicswith phrases known solely to our own, Through eyes and colors and body motions
He played the gamelan and I moved to the rhythmical ancient inner-temple dance: Rejang..
Or he danced the sacred Sanghyang Jaran whilst I made my offerings in Dulang.

Until one day I found myself stacking heavy bonangs. Pounding immense gongs played by swain male musicians. I could not stop peering in the dressing room, the allures of my fella girls- their curves, hips, breasts. To Ayuni, ‘oh how attractive that female Legong dancer is’.We cackled. We discussed. We outpoured. We fell in love. And thus above, we were unmatched.

So, from that moment, I could not recall the name of a fine looking young man
with brown skin like mine and brown eyeballs like mine. So brown,
dust haze encircled my standing female trunk. Stunk.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 21, 2010



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