3 Poems About Frida And Diego

And if there are other women?
I myself am another woman.And if he abandons me?
I myself am completely abandoned.And if he abuses and degrades me?
I abuse myself, I degrade myself.And if he is more famous and highly praised than I?
I myself am more famous and highly praised than my self.And if he conquers me and plunders my passion?
I have conquered myself and plunder my own passion.And if I always will live in his shadow?
I always live in the shadow of my own shadow.


Caló is the cant of the alley and gutter
The slang of the ghetto and the tenement
A private language against the law
Against the church and the landlords
Against the conquest and the submission
Against those others, who talk so fine
But hear so poorly and understand so little

It is Spanish not so much broken as shattered
Spanish patched up and darned and refried
It’s servicable enough for the big markets
The three stool restaurants, the carts in the alley
Language so torn and frayed that it’s a badge
Mother tongue to the outcast, to the shirtless
To the criminals, addicts, beggars, cripples and whores
Free speech for those buried alive in humanity
An ugly idiom that bears down like a speeding bus

And yes
Can fracture backbones like a ruined tower
Can turn a beautiful body into a prison
Can turn love into the worst torment of all
Can make one heart beat as two
Can change a white lily into an impaling spike

But also
Can turn a ruptured heart into a flaming parrot
Can turn city dregs into a family
Can turn crumbled bones to bread
Can turn common blood to wine
Can turn the words of the gutter into anthems
Can turn paint on the walls into prayers


All the world is dressed in white
Not of innocence, but the bleach of the sun
Which burns out the colors one by one
And over a single season turns a lush green land
To dust and smoke and dry stalks of harvest

All the world has brown skin
Not from the sun, but from the earth itself
Color of soil and wood and animal hides
Even the few with pale skin and hair
Keep dark dreams of brown jungle
Sip their coffee and chocolate
Under the dark gaze of the night

All the world has black eyes
As deep at the edge as in the center
Not black like stones in a stream, but like ravens
That flock to the fields and rise like a storm
The walls are white with brown men
Who rise from fields with hoes and machetes and flails
And harvest only stalks and smoke and dust

All the world is full of women
Who dress in white or sit naked, filling their brown skin
Women water dusty fields, glean stalks from the dust
Grind seeds into bread, whitewash earthen walls
Raise brown children, pray for the white clouds of brown men
Are born down to their knees by the weight of white flowers

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