after Frida Kahlo
I dream I am a wreck of a woman.
I am not grand like a ruins, I am not a broken column.
I am the traffic accident on morning radio.
A bus handrail is sticking in my uterus like a huge thumbtack.
My collarbone hangs round my throat like a necklace.
I dream a monkey is picking up bits of my spine with his pale hands.
The monkey is carefully arranging me back together.
I hear the Professor say the monkey is the traditional symbol for lust.
My monkey is very gentle.
When he is finished, I will take him to my breast, and offer him my nipple.