Oshunalso spelled Osunan orisha deity of the Yoruba people of southwestern Nigeria. Oshun is commonly called the river orisha, or goddess, in the Yoruba religion and is typically associated with waterpurity, fertilitylove, and sensuality. She is considered one of the most powerful of all orishas, and, like other gods, she possesses human attributes such as vanity, jealousy, and spite.
As the first metal widely used by humans, copper and our planet have a long and magical history. Both which happen to involve both love and chocolate. Alchemy symbol for copper.
In her latest collection, Postcolonial Love PoemNatalie Diaz brings us the body in the form of bodies so rarely sung by, so rarely seen by, our dominant culture—bodies brown-indigenous-Latinx-poor-broken-bullet riddled-drug addicted-queer-ecstatic-light drenched-land merged-pleasured-and-pleasuring.
She brings us not only the human body, but that of the desert-river-rock-arroyo-dirt-and-stars, the body of God and the body as God. Yes, this collection is postcolonial.
We pleasure to hurt, leave marks the size of stones—each a cabochon polished by our mouths. I, your lapidary, your lapidary wheel turning—green mottled red— the jaspers of our desires.
And, a few lines later: Where your hands have been are diamonds on my shoulders, down my back, thighs— I am your culebra. I am in the dirt for you. The entire book is saturated with this kind of imagery. For this reader, it was a revelation—bringing to the center of awareness a tumultuous, gorgeous rapture, in which two women contain and then explode the earth and the universe itself.
Lamp black. Bone black. O, constellation of pelvic glide—every curve, a luster, a star. More infinite still, your hips are kosmic, are universe—galactic carousel of burning comets and Big Big Bangs.
What every lover should know about copper
Millennium Falcon, let me be your Solo. O, hot planet, let me circumambulate.
O, spiral galaxy, I am coming for your dark matter. The destruction of a river is not unlike the destructive colonization of America. I have never met a red native.
The poem begins:. In a white plastic bag.
This is stunning work—painful, embodied, and glorious. This is a body we will never turn away from—awestruck-beloved-eaten-shot-killed-stampeded by animals-made of rivers and stars.
The body sings, and this entire collection of songs stands as an act against colonialism. We go where there is love.
Copper center masculine lover
We are rearranged. As a journalist, her beats include food, science and medicine. She has published three picture books, two middle-grade novels, one adult novel, and her poetry has appeared in the Cimarron Review, Borderlands, The Massachusetts Reviewand the Columbia Review.
The poem begins: Today my brother brought over a piece of the ark wrapped in a white plastic grocery bag.