There's a nursery rhyme I part
remember. Something about
riding a cock-horse to Banbury
Cross, to see a fine lady upon
a white horse. Perhaps that's
what's happening here. The
young girl, now dismounted
from her mother's knee, has
turned her back on the white
horse & the lady in — though
clothed — Godiva pose. Is per-
haps contemplating the cubism
of the tombstone that her body
has become, the tumbled straight-
edged landscape, the upright
dwellings, the church beyond.
Is that Banbury Cross? she may
be wondering. Which way is the
lady facing as she rides along?
