Apology

[tomsdisch]

I'm sorry, God, that you don't exist.
I'm sure you'd like to, but it's just not in the cards.
Some gods (Pat Robertson's, for instance)
would be pretty pissed to be so casually
dismissed, but the god I don't believe in
is no magnified redneck shaking tinfoil
thunderbolts. My god's more like Dracula:
suave, inviting you to a dinner he doesn't eat
himself, and working his best magic
when you're asleep. He favors virgins,
but don't we all? His existence may be unprovable,
his mood-swings unpredictable,
but he can send some fine weather
when he is so disposed,
and he is kind to credulous fools,
which I try to be myself. Maybe I
am the god I don't believe in,
and I've designed this universe so as
to keep me from knowing my secret identity
(as often seemed to be the case with Jesus).
You can put it to the test: climb a mountain,
jump from a high ledge, then experience
the power of prayer. In my name, fly!
If that doesn't work, I'm probably not
the deity for you. Or else I am a trickster god
and something of a stickler for details.
Unroll the scroll inside the amulet
around your broken neck. Are my sacred names
correctly spelled? If not,
I'm sorry.

--Tom Disch