Polish Immigrants
how do they break away from the land
where even stones take root
how do two languages share one mouth
like two women in one kitchen
how do they bring their bloody bodies
wrapped in accordions instead of bandage
through Security
do new hotels remind them
of boxes of german chocolate
is it true that their pillows
are stuffed with soil
softer than any feather
their faces differ from the locals'
by the number of wrinkles
as if they started
sculpturing something new out of their skin
but then stopped having changed their minds
and never finished their reincarnation
the tiny wrinkles in the corners of their eyes
twisted and shiny from sweat
like bonbon wrappers
but when you look into those eyes
you are looking down the barrel of a gun —
what do you need
in the territory of their city
painted on the wall of the restaurant
Taste of Europe
and there
that very taste
fills your eyes with saliva
————————————
Valzhyna Mort
Factory of Tears
Copper Canyon Press
2008
