Pangs of Art

            on the affair of Frida Kahlo and Leon Trotsky

she dressed for dinner  it took some doing
she could be sex   she could be art
even through decay      she plaited
each strand of her oiled hair
clasped it together with a parrot
a lifeline between
her head and her heart
her heart had stopped before
nothing was sure
timing was critical

like a bottle of vodka
to gulp   to devour
Trotsky circled
her spoiled waist with his
revolutionary hand

when he relieved himself
behind the ledge of her eyes
a tree of hope
sprang up
she placed a dove
in its limbs

he strolled a spell in her garden
re-buttoning his trousers
she had discharged him
she could say   enough
the timing was off
--this was before the shots came—

when the shots did come
she lent him her fountain pen
so he could bleed across history
into a footnote

Frida was student    Frida was worshiper
she last saw Trotsky dead
his socks slumped
like bandages between
worn trousers and foreign shoes

she painted a red stag
asleep
in a verdant tear
 

Copyright 1998, K. K. Todorovich
 

K. K. Todorovich has recently been published in Visions International, Storyboard Magazine, and Ekphrasis.

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