by Pavel Chichikov
The angel of judgement is a small fellow
Not very neat
And carries his trumpet in a trumpet case
I've seen him at the head of the moving stairs
In the Moscow Metro
Blowing sweet riffs on the love of the Blessed Virgin
This isn't whimsy or a pleasant lie –
I saw it and heard it
The angel was blowing his chops out, swinging
It was the station Taganskaya
And all the souls in Moscow's hell
Came up to meet the sound of the horn
Not drunk, but sober, and in a cold sweat
I prayed for a sign
And this was it, at nine o'clock in the morning
There are judgments and judgments, this one was small
Only the Soviet Union ending
The star called Wormwood still smoldering
What did he look like – you and me –
How else should he look
For the time of the end is yet to come
But he played the Hail Mary, from Schubert's score
He will come again
And I for one will know him, praying
And all will hear him, below and above
In the depths and the heights – this time no dove –
And all who have reason to – let them fear
And for all who have not – the Lord is near
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
Note: Pavel will read selections of his poetry at Franciscan University (Steubenville, OH) on January 25, 2002. For more information contact Professor David Craig of the Department of English.
