The Word “Evening”
God forbid God
should slam down the garage door,
shut out the sun. No one needs to be scared;
we will go gently, with plums and grays,
until all is reversed and indigo holds sway.
It’s tepid, tame as a cardigan.
So God does not explain Led Zeppelin,
whose song tears through like cadets in training,
all sweaty rubber shoes and chanted pain.
That rhythm, up and down, sure as life.
Jimmy, honey, that’s not “In the Evening,”
that’s after dark.