" Frida's Happy Death "
In Paradise
Frida paints her unborn children.
She uses no red,
for that pigment splashed her thighs
when she was alive.
Roses grow instead, twine about
her easel and canvases.
A peacock spreads his tail
in a blue courtyard filled with cacti.
One of her sons rides a monkey
up a tree with doves for leaves.
Her daughters float on desert flowers.
Laughter echoes on purple mountains;
time is endless and Frida's whole.
She runs toward each new sunrise;
farther up and further in she goes.
© 2004 M. Kathryn Black
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