Prime Directive

Prime Directive #1

Do not let the smell of your own feces distract you.

Roll the toilet paper tightly after each use and discard

in the thin blue bags Dete changes every Monday.

Roll your tampons and sanitaries into the black bags

you have brought – so afraid someone will find them,

and pick the dried blood into a stew.

Do not chase the lizards around the wall. Let them rest.

All night they have listened to your breathing,

the sobbing you haven’t heard yet, the heaving your body

prepares for by tightening muscles, damming oxygen

into tight spaces that explode into your brain

siphoning your dreams.

Do not let the sight of starving horses drive you insane.

When you see them, convince yourself that someone takes

care of them, that they eat the garbage because they don’t

like the grass, that they are sentient but not human. Look

away when the next one rolls his head towards you. Cross

the road when he follows you to sniff out your hand.

Do not let hot water run down your back for five minutes.

Wash yourself as if the hibiscus watches you during a drought.

If you need more, go to the ocean outside your door.

Scrub yourself raw under a trickle, forget you are American,

forget your own name, forget you are afraid of mosquitoes.

Remember why you chose to be born here.

M. Eliza Hamilton Abegunde