Dry Portrait of Frida Kahlo



Dry Portrait of Frida Kahlo


From eyebrow to jail bars
I am crowned with a rail of thorns
this vertebral column hell of skulls agonizes me                    
this severed placenta slavery feeds me            
the orphanage pushing my gut aborts and aborts me
I am a motherless ghost
my dry udders drip rusted curds
punishment for a castrated uterus
Oh how I limp in my portraits
Every sterile night, I un-nurse the fetuses in the bones of my bed
and my eyes bleed drops of mirrors that speak to me
and the twisted breath of daily tragedy nails me
and I am hidden in my Nana, I breastfeed shadows
with the same loneliness that night pours inside me

and I paint myself without looking

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