When I Was Six
written by: Cristina Munoz
@cristinamunoz8
especially after my family
migrated from Spain to Australia
without my mother’s brother
anymore to help stop the devil
from appearing in my father’s eyes
violence became the language
of my childhood
if a blue-eyed boy
with strange orange hair
and freckles on his skin
dared to make fun of me
because of my Vienna rolls
bursting with spicy chorizo
my mother packed for lunch
instead of his Vegemite sandwiches
i would punch him in the face
and he never did it again
when i was six
aggression made sense
in such a different place
where extremely pale people
lived in ugly grey buildings
surrounded by mainly concrete
speaking a quiet cold language
i didn’t understand at all
i missed the happy white houses
and apartments with arched front doors
filled with everyone talking loudly warmly
by the melodic sound of the Mediterranean Sea
which i missed singing at my bare feet
more than my favourite cousins
and even my mother’s brother’s
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