Santa Fe, NM

Poem

by Ann Ward

You twisted me down your streets Santa Fe,
But I left you cold after twelve hot years.

You were coffee stains on plastic tablecloths,
Bright colours and dollar store crucifixes;
Broken prayer beads scattered on blue tiles.

Saint Francis looked down on me from every corner,
Sadly judging from beneath his cloak of bird shit and graffiti;
The patron saint of stray dogs that died in ditches.

I’ll wink once more into the kaleidoscope
That sucked me in with a trick of light;
Sticky orange glass and bits of tin foil,
Spinning my eyes into my stomach.

It took too long
To peel off the shiny snapshots I glued to my mirror;
Coarse men with angel eyes and Chile tongues.

You were hot nights and fuzzy radios,
Static sounds and stagnant air.
You saved the cool breeze for the tourists.