Christina’s World
An Imagined Insight
Published in
Dec 10, 2021
This is Wyeth country, cast up from the sea,
a washed and faded band of sundried tempera
worked with axe, horse-plow and rounded backs.
I smell its salt veneer, a patina of white
that coats the air and clapboard skin of houses
and men. The hill road rises, two small tracks
of dust lead like bold brushstrokes to where
the Olsen doorway, like a pupil, opens and closes.
