by Katie Moore
I am the fat man's third wife.
El gordo. Panzon!
I was forever being
crushed beneath
the mountain of his lusts,
women and brush strokes ,
the revolution.
They say
it was like an elephant
married to a dove.
Imagine, me,
a dove!
Ridículo!
I am a brighter
plumed bird.
I am like Mexico.
It is a loud sadness,
one that smiles big with teeth,
drinks, dances, shrills
and stomps, whirling.
I wear colorful costumes
to máscara de mi dolor,
my skeleton is held together
by metal, and machines,
stitches, surgeons. I paint
myself in pieces and intact.
I paint the pain. I trap it
on my canvas
and make a face, stick out
my tongue. I paint myself
hairy like a little monkey.
I am beautiful, and hairy
like a little monkey.
He is like the world
I longed to see. It's not
the place to live
in peace. He is like
a revolution, a people
marching inside a person.
He can't be still, and it's not
his hands that do
the devil's work. It's the paint
and the pinga.
We connected
my Mexico to his world.
The bridge is built of love.
It's a small bridge.
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206 words
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Poem about Frida Kahlo. Published in PANK 6.
I like this very much.
This is beatuiful. I love this, Katie Moore. *
Ah, Frida, alive in your poem. *
Frida is my favorite artist, and this is a fine tribute.*
It took me years and years to get a Frida poem write. I'm glad you guys like it!
Write. Gosh, I mist have been tired. Right.
Was a huge Kahlo fan (admittedly we nick-named her "cake-hole" but then I was in college after all) and still admire her work, as I did this poem! Tight, so well crafted. "like a little monkey" is a great phrase.
Fave.
Faved. And Frida...she's a goddess in this household.
Fine poem.
*