My father had a collection
of butterflies. First he put
the pin into the thorax, then
on the edges of the wings
and dried each butterfly
in the sun on a piece
of styrofoam. His favourite
was Polyommatus Icarus. One
summer I coloured my hair
blue and became the butterfly
caught in his jar. The lid is closed
on me tightly, a few tiny holes
letting the air in. I’m waiting for
him to straighten me with tweezers
and pin me through the heart.
This poem was first published in Tint Journal, Austria.
Agnieszka Filipek is a Polish–born poet, writer and translator living in Ireland. Her work, in both English and Polish, has been published worldwide, and also translated into German, French, Persian, Chinese, and Korean. Her poems have appeared in Poetry Ireland Review, Crannóg, Channel, The Wild Umbrella, Lucent Dreaming, Amsterdam Quarterly, The Stony Thursday Book, Chrysanthemum, Blood & Bourbon Magazine, Balloons Literary Journal, and elsewhere. Her poems have been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and the New Irish Writing Best Poetry Award. Her Instagram is: @agnieszkafilipek.author
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