First Greeting
New Mexico, 2009


The toothless self-proclaimed prophet

steps up to me under the hanging red chiles
“There is plenty of room for you
and your people in heaven,” he says
It’s the first line I hear in New Mexico
I smile in response

As I walk towards my adobe home
with a mouse trap in my room
I wonder about these mouse murders
Only the first one felt difficult
Does even murder get easy?

That first time
I woke to a fat, dead mouse
in the trap near my bed
I took the beige trap
with the hanging body
And walked it out into fields of sage
To the beat of a wind turbon
Which powers our waterfall
And flung it hard
But it only landed at my foot

I had not realized how strongly
The clip of the trap holds a dead body

“You used gloves?” asked my ex in a later email
“Naked hands baby.”
It felt more honorable
After I murdered it
To at least risk disease
at its sage funeral
.
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