Valery V. Petrovskiy is a Chuvash University, Cheboksary graduate in English. He graduated from VKSch Higher School, Moscow, in Journalism. A short story writer (Pushcart Prize nominee, a finalist to Open Russia’s Literary Championship, 2012), he is the author of two flash collections: Into the Blue on New Year’s Eve (Hammer and Anvil Books, 2013) and Tomcat Tale (Editura StudIS, 2013). He published poems in The Missing Slate, Ivory Tower, BRICK rhetoric, CLRI. Valery lives in Russia in a remote village by the Volga River.
On a town street
On a town street right after the highway turn,
Some cars were parked with the backs to a road.
They rested their horns against family gates,
As cows would stand there, shifting from one foot to the other.
The cars differed much, whilst there were no folks around.
Most likely people went in to visit own Mom.
There they washed their hands, had a hot Russian soup of boiled nettle,
And later at supper, ate some baked kasha, while Mom was talking to a cat.
In the morning, her grown up children got into the car
With their own kids, who had strange names and weird nicks.
In the end, when all the cars were gone, the cat remained with Mom alone.
They will come back on a holiday: Nika, Vassilissa, Akulina, and Zakhar.
– Yes, Mom, I do remember: life is not all milk and honey.
Please, Mom, eat less salt as Doc prescribed.
Sure, we dropped in at the burial ground,
Dad’s tombstone is in the right place, not gone.
No, I have no more summer cottage; it’s not one’s money worth.
– Well, the neighbors do quite well…
– Mom, you don’t say so, you don’t.
Life is all the same around:
One stays at home, expecting a rain in summer,
And in winter, one sits waiting they scrape the road.