Like Twins or Unibrows, but Different
Back at the beginning of NaPoWriMo, Christine wrote an article at read. write. poem., that summarized some experimental forms. One of the forms she described was the Rothko, which a poet writes when looking at a painting by Rothko. There are other artist-forms, and people commented on other possible permutations.
After that, I thought a Frida Kahlo form would be cool. Kahlo created self-portraits that relied heavily on her subconscious and her self-image, so I thought a self-portrait with flaws would be apropos. I never wrote anything on it until this morning, when this poem occurred to me while I was showering. The subconscious is an amazing thing.
Self-Portrait with Flaws
after Frida Kahlo
I am not sewn together or shorn. I am
cobbled together and clunky. I am unsmooth
and imperfect, a trembling vessel
riddled with dings.
I am encased in shells, invisible
layers of lacquer and shine. But I am also
spiderwebbed with cracks, thin fissures
zigzagged across my skin. I am
permeable, though I rarely admit this.
Crack me open, like an egg
and you will find
the soft structure of my self
sleeping, unprotected, inside.
I love this. (She’s one of my favorites.) Great sub-conscious activity; outstanding result.
And oh, so relatable.
Your poem brings up images of a sculpture made of found objects because of the word “cobbled,” and then all the different textures.
But the self is a soft structure, under the layers. It really does sound like it could describe Frida herself, even though the poem is about an undisclosed narrator.
I like the abstract interpretation of Kahlo.
The unconscious is a marvelous invention!
Thanks for the shout out.:-)