The Hired Car


By Pavel Chichikiv

The taxi dreamed about last night

Came up the street at dawn

No burning chariot, nor did Elijah

See a stolid shape like this, gliding,

Roof-light fixed, an orange halo

On a car of life in shadows moving,

What this speckled age deserves –

Machinery between two stony curbs

A driver beckons, peering at his watch

And waits impatiently for what has long been fixed

I dreamed a peace and saw the sinner weep

Repentently, though not in his, my sleep –

Rhyming sleep retains some usefulness

To make amends, to listen and confess;

Rhymed with every sight and all forgotten sound,

Sleep will fall like yarrow on the ground,

Reveal who will be thrown and who will throw:

Everything no one can know is known


(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)

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