Are you our great creator?

a poem - November 2017

Are you Our Great Creator,
Plump with cattle feed?
Beneath the wicker roof you slumber,
Are you here to lead? 

Is it for you we wait and wonder;
Stripped naked to the waist,
Wide eyed and cut, uncovered,
Only when you say, embraced?

Are you the great Anubis;
The whispering dog of hell?
I thought I saw you clambering
Soaked and sneering from that well.

I thought I saw a katana, 
blood-dripping behind your back,
And severed heads aplenty in that
Saturated, burlap sack.

Are you Our Great Creator?
Will you take me in your car?
Away from here, ideally,
To heaven if it’s not far.

Are you the blue man from the desert,
Glinting in the sun?
I’m not prepared for your arrival,
I haven’t prayed in months.

(I would have tidied slightly,
I hoovered this room once.)

Are you here to save me?
I’ve been quite good, I think:
I follow six charities on Twitter.
That’s mostly my blood in the sink.

Are you friends with the laughing Buddha?
Share with him bread and wine?
Are you here kill me?
If so, I suppose that’s fine.

Because then we’ll go to heaven
For a million joyous nights
Dancing, singing, happy,
We’ll want for nothing, right?

You’re not the great creator.
You’re an imposter, a hoodwink!
All the same, I’m lonely:
Would you come in for a drink?