When God Made

When God hung Andromeda In the night sky Did he blush cause he had outdone himself? When the votes came in that he would be king Did he make a run for the desert? Did he wish they would see him In his workshop engrossed in his work? Or on a walk with his friend? Or sleeping alone though he craved a woman And they were there for the taking?

He tired of the blue ribbons The parades and the banners and the portraits And the vows of allegiance And yearned to be listened to And argued with To be treated like a man Not a tyrant who slices necks on a whim

He did all the wonder-working But wondered what it would be like To be loved Even if he had nothing to offer Nothing in his gift And no reputation of terror.