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 Sharon
Chmielarz's latest two books are The Rhubarb King and The Other
Mozart. Her poem "The Beekeepers" was nominated for a Pushcart
Prize last year. Her poem “New Water" was chosen by
Ted Kooser for his column “American Life in Poetry."
Things I Learn on Polish TV
An electronic device straightens children's backs.
It harnesses shoulders and blares when they slump.
It seems no child has thrown the gadget out of window,
but at the beep, sits up straight before piano or computer.
You can take a tour of Cold War missile sites
in Texas. A school district there bought one for a dollar.
It's nice and bright twenty feet under; not one
claustrophobic child's face flashes across the screen.
One site, Valhalla, is filled with water. Imagine,
on the Texas Plains, a heaven for scuba divers.
On the Northern Plains a site sold for 40,000 dollars.
Trick windows give an illusion of light, of being
on earth, not under. The family room has an atrium.
A shaft of sunlight plummets from the faraway sky.
It's great for parties. It has of course a bar.
A beer makes everything livable, even interesting.
Along the Wall, Jakuba ul
I passed the old woman who lives in Kazimierz
walking her small dog one evening.
She looked up long enough to throw me a glance.
How much you have, Foreigner, it said.
How is it you deserve two canes?
She wore a grey coat; the dog's was black.
They entered a door I'd call squalid,
climbed stairs that looked to me like despair.
And yet, the little dog's tail was wagging,
playing, as if closer to the sun, the woman's
grey turned into silver, her face's pallor
into rose. As if the greatest happiness
that could befall them now
would be a centimeter of new snow.
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