Self Portraits

Frieda Kahlo
butterflies on her hair.

Brush strokes of

green, yellow and brown

fill the canvas, as if planet earth


Her eyes and the bridge
of salvation, above
binding one stream

to another.

Veins, roots,
spread over her body
and the ground beneath


Holy crow down her chest

The black moors of the jungle

Reminders of sin

Leaves, wings

and forest

a free zone

of primordial mirth.


She is her own Buddha,


The desires of her body

fertility throbs of red earth


Every woman is a Frieda

in those early hours

or quiet afternoons

As they look at one’s own body

Spreading like a weed, in obvious oblivion,

With tentacle spine.

Thus formed jungles,

Amazons and ecstasies.



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