Plum lips & eyes as delicious
as cotton candy hair in a bun.
The hotdog holding her doesn’t get it,
thinks it means something it doesn’t.
Stuttering in static, electrons hiss
the background noise of the big bang,
original sin made virtual.
Cradled in slick confusion, she and he,
or he and she, or simply no one
or nothing, a carnival of color,
a black hole becoming invisible.
“I can’t see your face.” Fade to mute.
Rosefire Rising 
This cycle of creation poems is quite something. I like especially ‘Creation of Hope’, but all offer fascinating takes on their particular theme.
Thank you! I am finding them a huge challenge. Each day, I have NO IDEA what on earth I am going to say. I thought I had a plan when I started. Ha!
This poem is my favorite in the collection so far
I am so pleased you think so. For me, it was one of the hardest to write, the greatest emotional challenge.