Issue #31, February, 2003 : -- -1 -2 -3 -4 -5 6 -7 -8 -9 -10 -11 -12
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Emmy Pérez

Self-Portrait, With Frida How can I ask a wet nurse to squeeze black smoke from her body so I can keep mine inside me, spiraling underwater like a swirl of dark ink in your aquarium filled with halved papayas and soaked squash flowers aside a bundle of bananas with dusky talons? Thumbprints of red prickly pear on a white plate— what kind of terrible accident would it take to make me love the sight of blood? In my garden, hummingbirds, our warriors hover in flower-and-song come back to life nuzzling sweet nectar and why do I only hope for butterflies fluttering near my braid and a monkey with a chongo just like me, a gold ribbon wrapped loosely around our necks? Frida, I want to want as you do but I am your bride frightened at seeing life opened.

Door. Marfa, Texas Jessica Powers larger version of image

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Issue #31, February, 2003 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.