These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.
9 April 2008
The Little Deer, by Frida Kahlo
This forest is full of dead trees.
There's been a fire, you can see
by the blackened trunks.
Even the ground is charred.
The victim stands at bay.
Nine arrows shot hard
have driven into the soft flesh.
The deep wounds run with blood.
There is no escape – facing the hunters,
hemmed in by all that dead wood,
at back a whirlpooling ocean,
storm clouds, forks of lightning.
All that, I notice later. First
what arrests and fills my gaze
is her face: Frida's face, startling,
staring from the animal's head.
Her wide eyes and closed mouth
appear only mildly surprised,
slightly disdainful. She is mute
and will remain so. The little dear!
© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2008