The Ninth Star
When the hurricane hit New Orleans black and white newspaper image in my coworkers hands. Her black curls, her white skin. I went back to sipping black coffee in a white mug and only said, my family’s from there but thats another story, Yankee.
This story the tiger who pulled me to his bed and made me forgive him like pretty princesses always.
The ninth ward is gone now overgrown with blue trees. put the earth in my pockets and hide from the bad dreams.
I hear you got oil in the bay now seeping into earth making eyes glitter. Dont forget me, girl, now that you’ve become rich.
You know they used to call your coat black gold you black like me now you old.
The earth is not the only who knows my name and I too will be called like star to gravity like milk to pink teeth thy will be done new orleans gone.
My skin drifts light in the winter like the color is trying to escape.
Mai’a ‘who should have been named Nikki’ according to the poet, Nikki Giovanni, is a visionary and media maker. She has lived and worked in the Middle East, southern Mexico and east Africa with refugee and displaced women under the threat of violence, also she has organized and accompanied communities and persons within the US/Canadian urban landscape, engaging in issues including: race, working poor, sex work, prisons, drug addiction, police brutality, and queer rights. Living in Cairo, Egypt, she is a free lance writer, poet, journalist, zinester, photographer, multi-media performer, and outlaw midwife. She has dedicated her body and life to stopping by any means necessary and possible the violence (whether it be state, military, communitarian, medical, domestic, etc.) that threatens our survival on this earth and to co-creating with you revolutionary, liberatory communities.