The moon is God’s fingernail,
the one she hit on the Earth’s crust,
breaking it from her,
when plowing
the world with her fingers
for the first planting
of sunflowers.

The only part of her,
left from before
she sacrificed her body,
cutting for fingers for each mammal,
toes for each bird and fish,
ears for the amphibians and reptiles
and her nose
for the mosquito and spider and fly.

Her torso went to the mountains,
her skin to the oceans,
her breasts divided
into equal mouthfuls
for every mother
her arms became the trees
and her legs
the rivers
and her face,
the sun

The only part
still left for us to see, hanging
in the night sky,
surrounded by the starry tears
she left from the pain
and the bloody galaxies
that grew from the wound.


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