Where the River Forms
6am lightning flashing;
heaven’s crackling, cackling laughter
at the rooster’s utter failure
to usher up the sun from its captivity in night.
Thunder rumbles to Eden’s eastern edge
and the raindrops thunder on the tin;
one warning shot after another
until the sky opens up the gutters.
Small streams trickle
joined by another and another;
muddy torrent joining muddy torrent
until the roads turn to rivers,
the rivers to a flood,
and here the mighty Congo forms,
flowing with too much good and evil.
The sun finally rises;
red in the morning, with such a warning
for what this day might hold.
