-after the painting by Frida Kahlo

When the maid asks, must you leave
New York so soon? I will say, it is
just the smell of last week's uneaten fruit

that makes me long for La Casa Azul.
Then I will gently fold my lies into a suitcase,
and carry my pain to Mexico

where it can live a colorful life
under skirts that swirl as I raise
the brush, paint myself again and again,

until finally I see glimpses not of me
but of what I will become: strong
eyebrows, long neck, knowing eyes.

But for now my dress hangs there
in the room where you will sleep without me.
I could say I will miss you but I won't

and when my back aches, I will paint
and when I am hungry, I will paint
and when I want to be loved

I will rest beneath the mango tree
take out my pain
and devour it.