I wanted to control him, but in a good way,
like a Mickey Mousenik
from the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, my honey-do
mopping up mess with a wooden bucket,
a live-in housekeeper on the look-out
for whatever comes next,
a full-time member of my cabinet,
but decisions, I made all of them.
It wasn’t a power wash,
at least not in the beginning; if I had a taste
for cream cheese and bagels on a Sunday morning,
you know who went. A biblical moon of atonement.
The golem never said anything.
And I never listened.