Wendy Carlisle - Honorable Mention

San Miguel Widow
for Tamam

When he chose the formality of bougainvillea and cathedral,
mornings chill and noon as thick as paste,
why did she follow like a tourist?

Who could believe what he was like, even a decade ago—
the clean planes of his face, his hair short
silk, a white that sucked up light.

“This is a city for widowhood,” she said
“and I decline.” As if she could
stave off his whims, the afterward, with vows.

She has new words to describe the city now,
the hewn steps, the flat, brown slap of feet, the worms.
She calls it exile, house arrest, carcass, politician.

She says, “In a city of crosses and virgins
trust only the sky, that great blue crusading for weather.”
She calls her old life back, the tempting stories, the hot walks.

Wendy Carlisle writes: I live in East Texas w/ three cats, a Rottweiler and a very patient husband. I've been in print (Borderlands, Acornwhistle and others) but mostly in the last year online (Perihelion , Meridian, Unlikely Stories, ZuZu's Petals, 2River View and such-like), placed in Suite 101's last contest and a Passager (print) contest a couple of years ago.