Christina's World
by Martin A. Ramos


After Andrew Wyeth

On a hill on the horizon
The large clapboard house—
Pale mustard-colored, muted, ghostly.

The prairie grass
Leans wave-like to the right,
Bleached no doubt by an Indian sun.

Panning to the left
Her august figure rules the landscape.
Mysteriously in repose,

She dreams, but of what:
Dancing on the beach,
Running a relay race—

Or, yes, the gift
Of her two lifeless legs
Like stone?






Copyright 2020 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.