I am five, ten, eight, and nine again
at eleven, I was free to choose
at nine, did I have a choice to miss my class
limb to limb, I stretch my lines
sketch a fishing line: hook and worm
catch a mole on my lip.
I am eleven, and nine passed my way
the many years I was five, I was six
wore Zöpfe —pigtails for the teacher
to molest my long, cotton child dress
skipped home to Grandmother Kisanyuka
on an Easter egg: green, red, and gold
purple, seamless, violet screams I let out
to the tall windows without curtains,
roofless hallway open to snow.
Ilona Martonfi lives in Montreal, Canada. Author of two poetry books, Blue Poppy, (Coracle 2009.) Black Grass, (Broken Rules 2012). Forthcoming, The Snow Kimono (Inanna, 2015).