Tomorrow Evening

The shadows move into the soft
dust, not having rested on the rigid surface;
their dark muscles
stretch with the hush of wheels.

Shut the lumens in the din of cars…
they settle themselves, they wait
for the beginning of the happy dream,
regarding the arrival.

All those who come via the freeway,
linger and do not return home;
they are afraid to stir,
to wake the shadow.

A simple interruption of the unlit dream
may lead to disappearance; on
the powder road, cross
into the memory of it.

Aleksey Porvin is a poet born in Leningrad. His first collection, The Darkness is White was published in Moscow earlier this year.