On the First Day,
She laid down and parted Her hair.
The Second She painted
rock and mud and rubbed it on her forehead.
The Third Day She pulled a green chord
from Her throat, filled the air with jasmine.
On the Fourth, She plucked out each
of Her burning eyes, flung them away in fury.
She formed you from beneath Her left thumbnail
on the Fifth Day, wet and soft.
The Sixth, She blew life into the ear
of the wind, and finally opened her fists.
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