I am the one you invited here
to set your house on fire.

Perhaps you mistook me
for the plumber
or a runaway bride
or your mother
come to lull you
back to sleep

or a monkey
in a bamboo cage
for you to keep
as a pet.

Perhaps you believed
I was the mail order
jesus clown
you sent away for
in a moment
of unrestrained impulse;

or the glow-in-the-dark
facsimile of god
nailed to a crucifix
(by rose petal hands),
and affixed
to your bedroom wall
to absolve your sins in the night.

Or maybe
you thought me
a wind-up
poet doll
sent here special
to blow smoke
and soothing sounds
into your dreams
while you talked
in your sleep,
or to put behind glass
on a nearby shelf,
where you could
push my belly button
and make me cry
real tears
on demand

or rip off my head
just for fun
because
you were tired
of listening
to my song;

But that
must have been
a different dream.
———
This is the part
where I speak
and you listen

This is the part
where you feel
the nails

and I hold the hammer.

This is the game
with a new set of rules,

the one where
you finally learn

I did not come here
for your amusement
or your pleasure

or for you to consume
and go home fat
and satisfied
having entertained
your drunken friends.

I came here
to show you
shades of blue
the sky never imagined
and reds so deep,
even the setting sun
is in a jealous rage.

I came here
to light myself
on fire
in sympathy
with falling trees;
and to show you
the moon
from the perspective
of the stars,
then swallow
the rainbow
in living color,
while I rock you
to pieces,
and leave you
lying on your knees
gasping for air

I came here
to introduce you
to layers of your soul
you never knew
were there,
and to take an ice pick
to your stone-cold heart,

just before
I pray
you open
in three dimension
and leave you
reaching for the moon
with burning hands,

having dreamed
you wide awake
with music
better than god.