Sia Figiel is the matriarch of the Figiel āiga of Apia, Sāmoa. She has written three novels, a book of poetry and performance-poetry CD with Teresia Teaiwa. Sia has travelled widely and has appeared at literary festivals in Europe, South America, the United States and the Pacific Islands. Her work has been translated into German, French, Catalan, Swedish, Portuguese, Spanish and Danish. She lives with her family in Nu‘uli, American Sāmoa.
Sitting here
Staring at the tee vee
Feeling possessive without cash
Obsessive about looks
Age
Try this cream
Promising no wrinkles
At 25
Auē!
And daytime soapies too
And talk shows too
Not to mention car commercials
Selling engines with permanently youthful
Blondes in bikinis smiling
At my obsessions
My lack of worldly possessions
Auē!
If the blondes
Have three-year guarantees
That they too won’t rust
In tropical climates … ???
to another globetrotter
so here i am at
4 o’clock in the morning
at the inter-continental
looking out to the lights of Sydney
the harbour bridge
the opera house
that pointy thing
and they’ve put me on the
14th floor
so you can imagine how
i feel
and i can imagine how you
felt
and the silence does become
more acute
(like you said it would be)
sitting here
alone
at 4 o’clock in the morning
remembering the last time i
saw you laugh
mad-dog
sad-dog
baaaad dog suva
famished we were
after an after
noon of poetry
and conversation
feminism
wo-manism
nephews
expectations
and frequent flying programmes too
and the poems we
write
in hotel rooms
may these poems i write
now
find their way to you
in feejee
at u
s-pee
(as i hope
they will)
and in returning
they might bring the scent of
moso‘oi
the one you wear in the bun
in your hair
to calm these inter-
continental
fears
of falling from this room
that stop me from sleep
it is 4 o’clock in the morning Konai
4 o’clock
and the room like you said it would be
is quiet
is quiet
is quiet
awaiting
the approaching dawn
Apologies Mr
Wordsworth
But I too wandered
Lonely as
A cloud
When I first heard your
Little poem
Form three
Literature class
That floats on high
O’er vales
And hills
She made us me
Morise you
Along with tiger!
Tiger!
Burning bright!
In the forest
Of your other
19th-century
Roman
Tic friends
When all at once
She’d pull my ear
Each time
I stared
At the auke bush
Next to the mango tree
Outside
But in the end I
Became quite the expert
On your host of golden daffodils beside the lake beneath
The trees fluttering and dancing
Under the pulu tree
Singing
Singing
The Daffodils
Your precious daffodils
My precious
Daffodils
My only possession
At 15
I didn’t have to
Share
Not knowing what
Was fluttering
What
Was dancing
But
Never mind
Whatever they must have been
They must have
Been magical
Enchanting even
Because they
Too
Put a smile
On my face
Whenever
I lie
On my mat
Oft
In pensive mood
Trying to find
Some bliss
Of solitude
Now
And then
Without the dogs
The roosters
The āiga
My āiga
The village
My village
The district
My district
The neighbours
The neighbours’ radio
Their TV
Their big mouth Aunty who swears all the time at the
kids because they haven’t started the saka and it’s
already five o’clock in the evening God I hate that
woman but smile at her anyway – the only way to watch
Days of our Lives …
Do
Know
What
I
Mean
Mr
Words
Worth?
Do
You
Know
What
I
Mean?