Frida Kahlo's First Self-Portrait
Angelica Esquivel
OUR GENESIS: these lipstick flowers
in her hair, crimson framed
by a faint mustache. She’s always
why should I? never I will,
fighting with her man, praying
for an umbilical cord that will eternally
connect her to the Earth and to him.
Praying for entanglement.
She envisions curly raven hair,
canvasses smeared with innocence,
a baby’s fingerprints. He’s buried
in the family cemetery next to her
grandmother, our great-grandmother,
and sweet Frida
keeps curling around herself
like a worm in a bottle of tequila.
She weeps as the black vines tighten
around her neck, praying for
entanglement, OUR INHERITANCE:
Sugary leaves. Pointed elbows.
Strength that becomes stronger.
Damn sorrows that do, too.
