You know, in the beginning there was woman and she made stones
from sand. And taking water
for bone, sculpted more of herself, the gift of life emerging tenderly from her sinewy hands
There has been talk of fire, but with her face and her
face and her face once more there was the sky,
its tides the refractions of an empyrean sea
Her last gift the moon, carved from the arches of her feet,
forever perambulates by our side
Bio: K Dulai lives in the Bay Area. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Pretty Owl Poetry, The Eastern Iowa Review, and Marias at Sampaguitas. She is a current resident of the Pink Plastic House Online Residency.
