Mr. Baumgartner might have been someone
had he not rejected Katherina,
who was sprung from the nuns to propagate
Protestantism. Runt of the laundry
basket, she cleaned Cranach’s brushes and swept
—one presumes—his floor earning her keep (she
ate very little). In time, with a shrug,
Martin himself married her, his union
to a farmer, a brewer, boardinghouse-
keeper, a sales manager, shill. Mother
in a model home. Supermodel cheeks
and sly eyes sold Europe a new bill
of goods: the clergyman’s wife. Cranach had
a logo—a winged serpent. Katherina
stood for the Church vernacular. She stood
a lot. She was too busy to sit.