Frida Kahlo: Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird

In Middle Distance, only the animals
are awake. The Mexican woman with
the German name: Frida—stricken statue,
static, draped in symbols that the creatures
would take from her—but that she
painted them too tight to be removed.
Intricate lacewings starch an insect’s
flight. Not a fire-eyed cat
will lick blood from a neck three times
too long for a tiny woman. No fruit on a
torque of thorns nurtures a kindly monkey.
And a flattened bird hangs
lifeless from the twist of twigs.
These animals have come too late.
Frida has not told them the truth.
Made them up. It’s only about her.
In Middle Distance, jungles of
ornament set instantly into Monument.

© 2008 by  Denise duMaurier. All rights reserved.