Astigmatism

Everyone in my family loves the impressionists
They fight over the genius of Renoir and Monet
Sigh at the delicate blues and greens, saying words like "subtle" and "elusive"
I've always thought them very pretty too
Very pretty
Pastel
Puddles

I wanted the clear radiance of myth
Waterhouse's bite your lips blood red
Leighton's lusciously blooming sweet sunset orange
Hughes magic midsummer midnight green
Faery dusted with glitters of gold
I wanted the air castled unreality
Of an absolute, improbable sky
Drempt forever in
Maxfield Parrish Blue

In a museum in Italy
Standing in a long room full of Monet
after Monet after Monet
After Monet
I am struck to silence
I watch the paintings stretched into the distance
The fluid, graceful, liquid lines of watered greens and blues
And suddenly realize
I am the only person in my family
Without
Astigmatism


©Edwina Peterson Cross