Today I am going back to the Frida Kahlo stream of thought, with a twist.
Mary McCartney shot this photograph:
This is Tracey Emin as Frida Kahlo. Also taking into account Jo Bell’s prompt to write with shame in mind. And here is my poem:
Keep your eyes open for the edging cats
who walk, tall tailed, on the window sill
sew stones in your pockets to make sure
you hit the bank, wear rings on your fingers
your heavy, ornate hands.
The sheets haven’t been washed for three months
they pucker and nose between my feet,
there are stale glasses of water and teddy bears
from fairs with trampled mud, flashing lights and screams.
Pillows compress within the cases
limp and bulky, pummeled into mounds
small bodies that lie restful in the dust
what do they dream as I push my face
into their thickness; sun.