Across the Creek Is the Other Side of the River by Charles Wright

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.