Frida Kahlo

I am going to an exhibition of Frida Kahlo’s work at the Tate Modern tomorrow with a friend. I was listening to a podcast about it. My husband started rolling his eyes at the mention of the term “intersectionality”. This poem is the result of our conversation. Pelvis shattered Back broken She spent years In braces and tears Pain given form Through clenched teeth and survival Defiance stroked into Canvas through paint and oil She stares out From history Her story of a collapsed body Plastered in technicolor rage I turn and ask you If you know her Hoping a page of her work Had seeped through time Into your mind “Yeah. Of course I do,” you say. “She’s the mono brow woman.”