& then the poet became G D/like
just’a rolling his tongue everywhere
like G O D must’ve
when the earth got birth(ed) & even
after the fertile soil turned
over on herself/ & the sky--a mix
between "blue&what you looking @?"
(that was sometime afta the 5th day)
when the crumbling grit shook her grin
loose crossed each arm & said
“Man? Nah…we good”
Copyright © 2015 by Mahogany L. Browne. Reprinted from Split This Rock’s The Quarry: A Social Justice Poetry Database.