Chekhov for children.(Brief Article)(Poem)

 
Chekhov for children 
 
   She was in mourning for her life, 
   Masha loved to announce, borrowing a line 
   from another play. With a swirl of black skirt, 
 
   she'd hurl herself into the arms 
   of an overstuffed chair in the dressing room. 
   Was it a line you had to be too young to say? 
 
   Who knew we'd never hear of that actress again, 
   who wore out a handkerchief in her grief?. 
   I was handed a wad of shredded silk, 
 
   though in that Midwestern Three Sisters 
   I was the fourth sister, the one in the black clothes 
   of a stagehand, who hid behind a folding screen 
 
   waiting for Olga, the one who taught school. 
   Out of a corset and into a nightgown 
   I helped her to change, as if into spinsterhood, 
 
   without her missing a cue. There might be a fire 
   burning in town--she'd call that peace, 
   for want of a better word. 0 Iowa City, 
 
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