Wendy Taylor Carlisle

 
Athena Shows Her Third Eyelid

Through the Great Horned Owl Cam
I watched Athena incubating her eggs. She

stared forward, eyes at half-mast
and fluffed her neck feathers rhythmically

until, apparently bored, she flicked
her protective nictitating membrane

and turned away, sighed, turned back,
rotated her head, hooted and went back to staring.

Athena looks wise and maternal with her constant,
unwavering stare but like the goddess,

she is probably sizing us up, whatever
she sees of us and our desires,

and deploying that strategic eyelid, to see,
if we might become her next meal.

Field of Mars

Some days, intransigent Mars commands
moods in a house. The God of War governs

domestic battles, holds us by the throat
and genitals. From him we have an epithet

for our fury, martial. Rome gave the God for
their troops as brutal guardian, a warrior

to secure accord so soldiers could see,
at times, the wisdom gained by yielding,

be guided in what to give up, when to concede.
If we should take him for our God this aggrieved

morning, let him accompany us to war’s end
a compromise that lays its weapons down

designates no winner, does not praise

Wendy Taylor Carlisle Lives and writes in the Arkansas Ozarks. She has published four books and five chapbooks. Her poems have been anthologized and appeared widely on line and in print. website

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