In this dry place
where cow skulls grin from restaurant walls
skeletons dance in the gift shop of the Chimayo Sanctuario
and lovers leap from the gorge bridge
Death feels close and friendly
In this dry place
where Duende hides among red and green chilies
and the devil dances with sequin skirted Marias
I fear living more than dying
In this dry place
I sleep too deeply
and awake from dreams of rivers and wombs
of waterfalls and falls from grace
I dream of walls without gates
and small dogs thrown from high porches.
In this dry place
that summons chaos and phantoms
that hides beauty behind a garish mask
and puts miles and miles between here and yonder
only death is nearby
And she asks again
Which breath were you born on?
Which breath will you die on?
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