now i lay me down to sleep
and if i die before i wake i hope my back never touches the earth again, i hope hands reach out from the reefs and my mouth gets so full of water that my lips starts to form a different tongue. one that is always full and always fluid, forever wading in transformation. i hope the muscles in my back shoot ripples across waves. i hope my shoulders never float. i hope my hips sink so far the water and i never stop making love. i hope we never stop making love.
the waves and i giggle too often with eachother. passengers on the ferry wonder why my skin has started to drip blue. she giggles “she’s in the wrong place, her feet were never meant to touch the ground.” a poem for you by song aziza tucker
After the Flood Thesis Statement: After the Flood none of us look the same. We are drenched in desire, they glisten with possibility, with love, with joy, with magic. Eight movers engaged in the excavating work of intimacy and trust. They looked at each other with eyes of blue flames, the hottest and quietest kind. Eight uniquely stunning black women movers submerged themselves in support. They engaged in mission, in riot, in lust, in honesty, softness, all heart and fire. We prayed on the intention of collectivity. We could go where we wanted as we were, we needed the support of each other to come with us, and when we arrived, all washed up in own desires, none of us looked the same.