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.