November/December 2010
Andrew Wyeth,
Painter, Dies At 91
a new poem
by L. S. Klatt
|
A weathered barn on a hilltop; a nude woman sprawled on the slope below. A giant squid rises out of a hayfield, & the barn is compassed in tentacles then a cloud of ink. A man with a fountain pen in his hand & a pitchfork in his back walks the cow-path around the barn & tells the beauty on the hill to step to it. It’s as if her freckled skin is newly charcoaled & the hayloft a smokescreen. The cows can’t be heard for certain within the ink blot, but deer creep to the edge of the field on delicate feet. |
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