To Be A God

Starting now, I'll do everything
                                                 as if I were a god.
I'll walk from a dark room
                                         as a god walks from a dark room,

I'll speak to strangers
                                  as a god speaks to strangers.
When it's time to say something important,

I'll rise from my chair like a god would
and speak in my
                          celestial certitudes.

There will be no more
                                   lap-sitting, no more stories
about when I was a barback or a ferryman

or a farrier. There will be
                                       fewer hours spent
tuning my piano
                           and patting my hunting dogs,

or remembering
                          my youth. When I need you to hurt

I'll put you to sleep as a god puts you to sleep,

I'll play my discordant harp as a god plays a harp,
and the effects will be the same.

The noise of the bramble
                                        never leaves me.
I bless the cedar. The months go by. I bless your saw.

When you need
                          me to hurt, I'll dim in the linden leaves,
I'll hide in the fire-scarred hills,
                                                  and the great guards

of my gilded name
                              will circle around to protect me.
And you'll be there.
                                And I'll know your name

as a god knows your name,
                                            as a father knows your name,
but you won't recognize me.