Deborah Diemont

Nature Lover

My lover traps a mouse inside a skillet
and frees it in the woods from whence it came,
seduced by oats, organic flour, and millet—
my pantry’s health. A mouse is not to blame

for skittering past my knee when I chant Om,
distrustful I can hold my meditation,
arriving safely to its family home
beneath my stove in warmth and jubilation.

My love begs, “Please let spiders live in peace;
they’ll feast upon the roaches. Eliminate
all thought of toxic sprays.” He’s a tease
to whisper sweetly, “Be sensible, just wait.”

My love bikes off to work. I sweep the floors,
invite a stray to coax some friends outdoors.

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Deborah Diemont is a freelance writer living in Syracuse, New York, and spends summers in Chiapas, Mexico, where she writes for a bilingual magazine of arts and culture and translates exhibition materials for the Museum of Mayan Medicine. Her poems previously appeared in CAIRN, Lucid Rhythms, The Texas Review, and elsewhere.