by Pavel Chichikov
Everything was blown away
Moon like paper, paper ghost –
We saw the constellations fly
Along a brisk ecliptic road
All alone the latitudes
Like wires of an empty cell
Had nothing to refer them to
Either spindled or stood still
Each of us peered overhead
From shadowless and weightless hills
From mountains and from pinnacles –
But all the universe was dead
And if it were not for the lamps
We would have thought ourselves as blind
As salamanders in a cave
No darkness by a light defined
Where was dying – did we live?
For we could talk to one another
Though every substance was dissolved
And nowhere could our courage gather
Then we prayed without a sound
Although we suffered not the lack
For all could sense the others moan:
O God, O universe come back
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.