I see myself through the shop window
My quiet knees, my hair rain-fluffed.
Scrabbling at scraps of Frida’s broken body her
Twitching, stretch, her
The way love opened her up opened me into
To “My Diego”
Nobody will ever know how much I love–
Don’t document it, don’t! His droll
Drumbeat on you
I wander through the city; faces doing breast-stroke
Ghosts swimming in a slobbering lake the rain still skittish
Telling me that she was skewered and I was too
He was her second great accident.
Ophelia, drowned and Frida
I see myself in a dirty puddle facedown
My ghostly floating my charcoal crumbling fingers
Smearing warpaints and waiting
A clock sewn into the back of my throat and
An accident opened her up so time slowed
She had two big accidents and I’m someone else’s smaller one.
I can’t help but feel
Fern and frothy fumbling
A new finger in her belt loop a hesitancy a
Gaping gaping absence of a
Diego to backwards-dedicate to.
Artwork by Frida Khalo