Later there were mutterings
at the bar, and throughout the law courts,
that Jesus only showed at the gay pride parade
to love the jewel, but not the quality,
to love the potluck, but not the food,
to love the vessel, but not the wine,
to love the hot rod, but not the driver,
to love the baby, but not the drool,
to love the rock, but not the cathedral,
to love time, but not history.

To which I say:
if you saw him on the float,
his arm cradling the jubilant and the grave,
his head thrown back in ecstasy,
harboring kisses without restraint,
if you had heard the songs
which rose among us to possess
the city’s tender hearts in common,
if you had desired as we had,
ached in the body’s soul places,
you would not so easily doubt
the divine, particular, gushing joy
that told us we were his own.