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Blacks at the beach: A conversation with Koleka Putuma

1. Jetsam It’s as if the reeds remember they were once chains And the water, restless, wishes it could spew all of the slaves and ships onto shore Their tears are what have turned the ocean salty This is why our irises burn every time we go under Every December 16th, December 24th and December 31st Our skin retraumatises the sea They mock us instrumental in trying to execute our extinction For you, the ocean is for surf boards, boats, tans And all the funky stuff you do under there in your bathing suits and goggles – Extract from Water, by Koleka Putuma

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