I want to be known
But I don’t want to be seen.
Is this how god feels?
Maybe I have the father all wrong.
Maybe this is what it is to create something.
To make something.
Proud of it in your secret heart
Smiling on the inside
But mortified of anyone giving you any sort of praise.
Or noticing.
Nervous.
humble.

Oh, it was nothing,
This? anyone could have, really,
(Of course no one else did)
I didn’t even walk in my PhD graduation.
I didn’t even go.
Anyone could do this.
So is God walking this razor wire too?

Here I made this thing.
For you.
I call it world?
I want it to speak for itself.
So I’ll go now.
I hope you like it.