Across the Creek Is the Other Side of the River
No darkness steps out of the woods,
no angel appears.
I listen, no word, I look, no thing.
Eternity must be hiding back there, it’s done so before.
I can wait, or I can climb,
Like Orpheus, through the slick organs of my body.
I guess I’ll wait,
at least until tomorrow night, or the day after.
And if the darkness does not appear,
that’s a long time.
And if no angel, it’s longer still.