I write a lot of non-fiction poetry and historical poetry. I'm waiting on possible publication for this one. I have a Harriet Tubman poem I need advice on, which was my motivation for coming here
[INSERT Self Portrait Along the Borderline Between Mexico and the United States, 1932 by Frida Kahlo]
This is an early self-portrait by Frida Kahlo, three years after her marriage to famous Mexican painter Diego Rivera. Rivera achieved renown in Mexico and the United States, which brought the couple to the states so Rivera could create large commissioned murals in New York City and Detroit. Kahlo was relatively unknown as an artist in her lifetime. Rivera and the press referred to her as Carmen Rivera. She preferred Frieda, but the name evoked thoughts of Nazi Germany. She later removed the ‘e,’ calling herself ‘Frida’ so as to sound less German.
Frieda Kahlo, Standing Along the Borderline of Mexico and the United States
BY LINDSEY THADEN
Covered in blood and cheese, purple,
I came into hot lights, black curly hair, brown arms,
screaming, writhing, fighting—
Two hemostats clamped and then between,
a doctor cut a pearly, blue cord.
My given name, Carmen,
Now born a Rivera,
I still scream, mierda, fight—
I cannot find myself.
I chose Frieda,
which extends from silver nostrils
like large, flat paint bristles
and burns like noxious gas,
crossing, sharp edges—
abrupt halt.
1925, there was a crash.
¡Ay! ¡Dios!
Shattered glass suspended midair,
One moment—
a grand chandelier sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight,
before turning to sand whipping over jagged, hard peaks—
arms and legs made right angles amidst screaming.
Then I felt it—
a hot, sharp metal piercing into my soul.
A fertility god lay broken at my feet,
dead as my womb, dead as calaveras
dancing before tamales, mole negro, pan de muerto.
I look to the Aztec sun,
rojo, blanco, verde.
The cacti flower and their roots
reach deeper into the earth
for water,
for life.
Plumes of black clouds
block the scorching heat as
steel and glass rise from the earth
like sequoias.
I cannot see myself.
I blow like a seed among rocks, thirsty,
I cannot see the sun.