Poetry
Empire Of Dreams
On the first page of my dreambook
It's always evening
In an occupied country,
Hour before the curfew,
A small Provincial city.
The houses all dark.
The stores-fronts gutted.
I am on a street corner
Where I shouldn't be.
Alone and coatless
I have gone out to look
For a black dog who answers to my whistle.
I have a kind of halloween mask
Which I am afraid to put on.
Charles Simic
