Poetry 6 March 2019 Moscow in My Head A new poem by Fred Johnston. Getty Images / MLADEN ANTONOV / Contributor Sign UpGet the New Statesman\'s Morning Call email. Sign-up I will go to Moscow in my head, Watch the onion domes peel off their light, Walk the Square where, at one side, Imprecise as a slip of ink on paper Someone will wave; I will know the sounds Of the words meshing around me, A gabble of ordinary people making a world: I will wear a fur hat and await, as if reading The end of a story by Lermentov, The challenge, the offer of choice of weapons While small snow flicks a change of season. There are boot-prints encrypted in the frozen grass, And in my head when I nod two unmoving figures Drown in a welter of iced water. Fred Johnston’s most recent collection is Rogue States (Salmon Poetry). He lives in Galway, Ireland. › Richard Sorge, the soviet agent who changed history This article appears in the 08 March 2019 issue of the New Statesman, The next crash