And I thought,
let there be folds.
And there were dark-pink,
velvet‑soft, labia creases.
And I said,
let there be water.
And a river rushed from her base,
washing her rich terrain.
And I said, let there be a breadth
between her waters.
And the tip of my tongue
traveled the length of her hips
and I made her expanse open and stretch
for seven nights and seven days
And her pleasure I named heaven
and her moans warm summer rain.
Published Source:
Masque, Mariel. “Genesis, Birth of a Poet, and Self Portrait,” 50 Over Fifty Poetry Anthology, edited by Ann Davenport, Quills Edge Press, 2018.