Fighting with Frida
She offered me Tequila.
I declined,
I can’t hold my liquor.
We launched in without ado.
I was born dead, what more do you want?
What they did to me was unspeakable.
I was held up with steel,
Cut and braced, the pain was extreme she sneered.
Doctor tied me up and hung me
With weights and pulleys,
I screamed when he forced me.
Operated on without anesthesia
Plastered in casts for months,
They even withheld morphine.
You are wasted I said.
Besides they left me to bleed
Through stitches for days.
She threw Tequila in my face:
They cut off my head and
Sewed it back on!
They ripped out my beating heart
And held it aloft, I cried!
They made me eat my aborted fetus
She wailed.
We pull hair and scratch faces.
Bitch! She bellowed.
She hit me with her steel brace,
I knocked her silly with my crutch.
Get out of my life, I said.
Until we meet again tomorrow.
People have told me it is hard to know who is talking to who in this poem. I know that it is true--hard to tell, but it is a poem of one upmanship. I was the one born dead who starts off the poem. Enjoy!
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