He is not 911, a celestial supreme court, a faggot-hater, or a genie.

I am not the Court Jester, or a Christian boy with androgyny to spare, or a guest lecturer, or an art-as-found-object puppet in a Brothers Quay film.

He’s a lover in the dark. I don’t have to see His eyes to know He’s looking at me.

I am His. Just His.