BAILE DE LOS BRILLANTES [Catie Hummer] (Based on A Dance With Death by Frida Kahlo) A spasm set off up my spine, Do I, maybe, know her? Her skin gleams a restrained sienna, despite steel skies. A red rebozo wrapped from one arm to the other, sage silk clutching her chest, grasping unlike a corset. Green swirls down to her calves and back up to her fingers as she steps and twirls in her baile folklórico. Another flash of red, crimson, leads my gaze upward to her hickory crown, braided with scarlet silk ribbon, fresh flowers like gems, flashy in pink and purple. She is their holder, like their own nutritious soil. I’m dumb, astounded, and my mind takes over my mouth. How can one person encompass the soil and sun? The tickle on my bones, of creeping vines, eases me, but hesitations in her movements confess her nerves. I grew up among these plants; they feel like home, and I know how frightening they must appear to be if you’re used to bright, open blossoms. So I take the first step and make my way toward her. I feel her eyes calculate my calcium content, and now I am the damsel, in need of her saving. She fights the trace of a smile from her lips, and I melt. “I don’t know how to dance, but would you like a partner?” Leading herself to me with her manicured finger, she laces them among mine and sets off in baile. PLAINS 56 paradox