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LAUNDRESS     early June. The hotel’s tableclothes         curled in my basket, wet             ready for hanging                 my joy among the strong white lines     pinned to the promises of season, green grass,             breeze just recently shorn of daffodils.         I am tall, romantic,             as I stretch them out, tight checks and polka dots,             in fresh sea                 sun.     in August.  […]

Epigraph: I think it’s what you take out of a picture that counts. There’s a residue. An invisible shadow. —Andrew Wyeth, 1917-2009 Andy’s Shadows Christina’s World– In the left corner a woman in a faded pink dress thin black belt sitting twisted in the meadow her back to us black hair sliced through with gray […]