Self-Portrait with Stereoscopic Vision

—After Frieda Kahlo’s Self Portrait With Monkey

Today I regret nothing, not love

taking over the body, or a handrail

piercing the abdomen, being tossed

on the road by a fickle lover,

or the way monkey babies

need their mother, one with ice

blue eyes, or dark as a Toad’s arm

pulsing around a sister’s waist,

fingers craving the flesh of delicate bones.

How, when I look at a canvas

I can see the past perched on the shoulder

of the present, monkey-eyes on mine,

pupils and irises blending,

beaming something other than light.