Titles by Kij Johnson are available for purchase online

The rock is earth.
See how black it is, how bubbles
have left it pocked with secret places
and crumbling shoulders.
I set it so to show its scars,
to show the bruise of granite on its black.

It lies in a dish of white sand,
which is sea.
The dish is shallow and octagonal.
I combed the sand to give it waves.

The tree is life.
I cropped its leaves on one side
and bent its branches with wires and tape
and now it leans against the rock
as if weary, in a strong wind
which is not blowing.

This tiny universe,
and I am God.

© 1981 Kij Johnson