Andrew Christian

Arthur Velker Pankov was born in the western Siberian town of Omsk. At the age of nine his family were granted asylum in Ireland. He grew up in Dublin and worked as a journalist with the Irish Daily Mirror and then The Irish Sun.
His first novel, completed early this year, is seeking representation.
Find more at or follow on @tweetofarthur.

We returned to town to
Stir things up,
Play with the creatures
That would chase us about.

We’d have our time with them
Knowing we’d be safe just past the city limits.
They were unable to leave, and
They knew this.

They adhered to their law of fear.
Hell, they were just as afraid of us,
If not more, for
They had faces just like ours
And they couldn’t stand to see
Us like that.

We were despair to them.

We eventually stopped going back
Because we grew up, got married, got
New jobs, had children, but
We thought about what would have happened
If we kept returning.

It made our stoic faces carve foreign expressions.

Some time later, I spotted one outside
Just running along—like a dog
After an invisible car.

I watched this creature with my face
Disappear as I sat in a chair, watching
The valley in the distance catch fire.
It burned until the sky smoldered
Into an ash pit.