I knew the five pillars of Islam before I knew.

And when I knew the pillars, I knew the prayers.

And when I knew the prayers, I knew that        insha’Allah means if God wills,

       that God and Allah are the same though my Christian friends said otherwise,

       that when I asked for something and my dad said          insha’Allah habibti it meant no.

I knew the pillars and the prayers before I knew myself.

       At least one of the five may never know me—I’m no pilgrim.

And when I thought I knew myself, I never found Allah.

And when I thought I found Islam, it had no pillars.

And when I thought I found Allah, they had no gender.

       Allah was shaped like bare shoulders and lavender sheets—a lily reaching upwards.

       Allah was shag carpet and a crisp purple neon sign—DINER or Self-Service Liquor Mart.

       Allah was an entire aesthetics of pleasure.         Insha’Allah the parents will understand.

And when I found pleasure, it was the word chartreuse—

       peony and petrichor—a shock of my first lover’s curls dyed pink.

And when I found pleasure with my first lover they said           to Nietzsche, God is Dead

And when I found pleasure it was nature and artifice—

       it was Allah but also human hands.

And when I found pleasure, I started to become myself.

I asked my dad can Allah be man-made?

I asked my dad is Islam shaped like five pillars or like the sun that shines through them?

I asked my dad does Allah love me?

And when I asked my dad, my dad cried.

And when I asked my dad, my dad prayed         and said              Insha’Allah habibti insha’Allah.