Magma & Pearls: the Creation of the Dolls

Magma & Pearls is an origin story for The Creation of the Dolls. The current chapter of work follows the journey of the dolls—a word that loosely means a trans woman so flawless she can no longer be considered real, underscoring how camouflage and metamorphosis serve as strategies for survival, and, ultimately transcendence. My project aims to bring different communities together to lean into the healing power of sharing our stories and cultivating worlds in our names. We all become stars building our own galaxy, universe of glory.  — Keioui Keijaun Thomas

“Touch This Skin, Honey”

What is it
about the closeness of familiar skin that drives 
people 
crazy? No Beyoncé

They touched my skin 
and my entire body shivered. 

Their hands following the journey of my spine. 

Touching skin to skin to understand every single bone concealed by my flesh 

Touching to understand the history of our skin tattooed by every sunrise marked by our ancestors’ DNA and melanin.

Against every attempt to hold us down. Our eyes open, again in the morning light 

And Still We Rise. Black and Luminous like the other side of the moon. 
They wiped away the accumulated dust that had held me, together, 
hardened my exterior illusion. 

This body, this skin, this orgy of bones 
I call home. This vessel, rough and soft at the same damn time. 

Sometimes, I wonder 
what they see when they look at me. I wonder if they see me inside of me 
If they see the tenderness behind my eyelids? Protected by every lash

With my eyes closed, my heart is wide open. Stop and imagine that 

“Heaven Bound Dolls”

For Saint/Motha Cecilia Gentili 
*in our sister/ her daughter Rio Sofia’s words: “A Trans Titan”* 

May these words hold us as we grieve and celebrate her life <3 

Who knows more about the wind than the
sea 

Ocean breeze on the banks of white sand in
the Florida keys 

Sometimes I feel like I’m heaven bound 

The ocean swallows me whole Covered in
gold a new mold 

transness as a full bodied spectrum of
existence. The way we show up in the world, 

Brave and beautiful in all of our nuances with
so much grace while changing the world and
exceeding expectations 

A rapture of undoing 
An anointment by the universe saying Bloom 
Bloom 
Bloom

“Black Aunties” 

Sometimes I feel like the 
ocean is the closest living 
relative I know.

Like a black auntie that’s 
really yo cousin but old 
enough to be 
respected like yo mama’s sista.

Ya know, the kinda auntie cousin that managed to wade thru 
the small town troubles. 
Found ha a nice house 
outside the hood y’all call home.

Wading in the wada just across the
riva. She been holding life forces, souls
and secrets never to be told.

“Jade Daggers Buried in the Garden” 

Hold me 
like we’ve just finished fucking 
under a waterfall. 
Wet and hard diamond pressure 

Kissed by a star 
the same star sign you see 
when you make love inside of me. 

You say, it makes you hold me harder than 
your cock pressed against 
the inner walls of my spectrum. 
A thousand whimpers in the moonlight, 
tucked in between my thighs. 
Rise, soft and gentle. 

Like a jade dagger, ready to open you up. Cutting 
through the bullshit to find the truth. No more code 
switching in order to survive. 
My camouflaged armor dropped down by my ankles. I say, 
get on your knees, if you want to greet me. 
Like a black femme queen. You can kiss my feet 
not my ass cuz that would bring too much pleasure to your lips. 
Make you pray for moments like this 
in the rose garden where Black Femmes reign supreme.

“Napping in 2020 ( or a Pandemic )”

and my ego said 
but you’ve traveled the world

and my body said 
but you still hungry hoe 

and my spirit said 
you got more work to do 

and my body said 
you still got pain and trust issues that 
trauma sit deep in you 

and my ego said 
but you can get dick anytime 
you want 

and my body said 
you like your belly rubbed and 
your neck kissed 

And my tongue said 
you like your water sparkling

And my heart said 
what do you really need 

and my body said 
say what you want 

and my ego said do 
you boo

and my spirit said 
you are Marva’s grandchild 
and Bridget’s baby— it’s in your blood, 
sweat and tears mama 

and my ego said 
don’t post that 
maintain their fake ass perception of you 

and my body said 
take a nap

“Meteorites (Fall On Deaf Ears)”

and I’ve watched the ocean rise
and fall like meteorites and I’ve
kissed your neck and stroked
your skin
and rested in your eardrums and
laughed in your belly and
believed in your glory and
maybe listening
to your spirit
delivers you from your ego and
sometimes you arrive
at the heart of it all
bodied and content.

“Washed Up by the Tide”

I once was sharp like
a stone dagger

but I’ve learned to be
softer

over time,

washed      up
and rinsed
by the tide.

“Immaculate Marbles”

perhaps, it is in my spirit 
or my grandmother’s, mother’s red 
blood cells or kidney disease. 

perhaps, it is somewhere 
in the dust of my shedding skin cells collected on 
my imagined lovers’ bedsheets, drenched from 
summer heat. 

perhaps, it is in my faggot sweat left 
behind on the dance floor, 
collecting puddles of runoff doll energy. 

perhaps, it is so vague, so nuanced 
i will never have the words to describe it, but i do 
feel it, sometimes.

immaculately marbled feelings of 
dolls transcending.

They Call Us the Gurls ( or Doll Headquarters )” 

They call me a star because I listen to their 
wishes and birth dreams 

They call me dat girl because I let my spirit 
reign supreme

They call me a hoe because I know how to 
make a nigga wanna believe in serving 
hospitality 

They call me a saint because I never let the 
church faze me 

They call me a slut because I’ve spent days 
on my knees not praying to a god that never 
could see me

They call me a bad bitch because I speak 
with mountains and earthquakes between my 
eyes 

They call us nasty because we can touch our 
toes and still make a bitch feel our souls 

They call us ghetto because our tongues 
know how to untwist harm and open oceans 
in the middle of projects and concrete 
jungles

They call us ratchet because our words are
innovation sparking revolutions 

“Never Forget 1861 ( or Negro Truths )” 

How can you say forget the past (nigga) 
and in the same breath praise the confederacy as 
your history — marked in the pages of fallacy 

40 acres and a mule wiped clean 
of your brutality— buried in misery.  

Your granddaddy say reparations 
aren’t warranted after centuries of slavery — enslaved 
memories on cotton and sugar cane receipts 

Picked and plucked as plantation goods not 
even the crows could speak 
even in the blood of descendants hanging in your galleries 

Gospel hymns murmured in fear 
after so much blood, sweat and tears— stained stories in gods 
ears

Not even soap can wash away the treachery 
under the Spanish moss and in-between your molar teeth 
Your tongue can’t regurgitate any truth— with so much blood at 
the roots 

How can you say 
we don’t deserve to be paid for centuries 
swept under 
willow tree graves.

“The World Shall Shake” 

When an alien meets a goddess the 
world shall shake. 

Language will greet her tongue to ask 
for grace. Oceans will lap 
at her thighs sharing stories of light years in 
time. 

Even black stoicism shall reside. Tongues 
will untwist ancient lies to be alive. 

Even gender shall rise, beyond our eyes.
Hypnotized in glory. Angels will sing
melodies of our loves embrace. Deep love to
us everyday.