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