The Devil Did Not Come
by Steve Klepetar


"The devil did not come
Or if he did, in disguise as nothing"

____________Joseph Lisowski



I waited, like Robert Johnson,
at the crossroads, skull
of moon glaring
down at these brown fields,
blacktop awash in lurid
light.
He was past his time.
Sweatshirt weather, or
a little colder, and I shivered
in my hood, hands meeting
in the open pocket across
my chest, feet dancing a little,
knees bending and straightening
like a catcher shaking out the kinks.
My breath seeped out, spread
thin as a departing soul.
Like Cain I waited, breath
coming in shallow gasps, eyes
straining down the road
into darkness. I had wares
to sell, I waited like a roadside
stand. Oh, the greedy itching
of my palms!
I craved a consultation,
just a bit of conversation
with His Majesty, The Lord of Flies.
All night frogs called out their love.
Could those throaty
sounds be him, could he be hunched
in marshland with a million green
minions, swamp water seeping
up around tight webbed feet?
I call and call and night answers.
"Nothing," she moans,
"Nothing, nothing, nothing."
I wait like someone with something
to give for something mighty in return.






Copyright 2021 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.