a lance tears from your cunt, ballerina!
trolley cars and lemurs rattle in the wreck
and a gurney painted with spirits shunts
you into the tattle of the wards and patinas
of morphine eucharists, breasts, femurs
and mural haunted defeats
still, a man brings beads for your neck
and pities the stars that repeat
in the darkness of your eyes
your cactus corset stitched like motherhood
motionless and contracted to your sheets
as a portrait, death hangs over your bed
yet leaves for the tobacco cantinas
suicides and stag hunts caught in your hair
your dress hangs between twisted metal
swords and skewers of blood that blunt
like animal horns in forests of magic
that distend your memories, recall
as you walk the broken rails of your spine
back to the wall.
Copyright © james Reich 2003
James Reich is a writer from Bath, England, and is currently working on a novel entitled Dragonhead. His band, The Deer Park, are reminiscent of The Psychedelic Furs and Sonic Youth. He and The Deer Park can be contacted through www.jamesreich.com
This poetry may not be archived or distributed further without
the author’s express permission. Please read the license.
This electronic version of Frida Kahlo is published
by The Richmond Review by arrangement with the author.
For rights information, contact The Richmond Review in the first instance
