It's so nice to be pretty and wearing polka dotson a swinging dress with a small cinched waistpushing a blue-eyed golden childthrough the trade winds in her pram.
The trees are swaying, on the bench belowan old woman looks up through the boughsto a parcel of clouds, when she sees us she smiles.When we pass she stands up and begins
with her zlata moje, my golden child,and she reaches her hand to touch our cheeksand her hand stays outstretched and she's askingfor just a little of our gold, something
for the bus or for lunch or, I reach into my tiny purse,drop some coins, since now her handis the meter,that turns us in our slot. [End Page 16]
Marcela Sulak is the author of Immigrant (Black Lawrence Press, 2010) and the chapbook Of All the Things That Don't Exist, I Love You Best (Finishing Line Press, 2008). She has published three book-length poetry translations from the Czech Republic and the Democratic Republic of Congo. She directs the Shaindy Rudoff Graduate Program in Creative Writing at Bar-Ilan University, where she is a senior lecturer in English.