Elegy for Ana Mendieta

By

                    – after seeing Untitled (Volcano Series #2)
.
It begins with
a single silhouette
.
white coffin ghost in
a handmade volcano
.
vaginal and then,
frame by frame, erupting.
.
Before her husband
killed her, she gave up
.
drinking. She said
women’s art isn’t respected
.
until they’re old so
I have to live
.
a long life, but Ana only got
to three years past Jesus
.
before she was thrown
from a thirtieth floor window
.
the year she was married.
She had a Times obituary
.
last year, a too-late
solo at the Whitney.
.
I wish I could think of her
there, light-lined face lit
.
by cloud flash of camera.
But I can’t help it,
.
I always imagine
that final frame
.
silhouette born
of impact, face buried
.
brown body
unseen

Rachel Smith

Rachel Mann Smith is a poet and physician living in Atlanta, GA. She holds a BA in English literature from the University of California, Berkeley. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Frontier Poetry, A3, and Atticus Review, among others.