Mice

When I think of you

something very much like hot mud
but so much thicker
starts bubbling in my back and slowly seeps through my spinal cord

as effervescent as ginger soda on a summer day.

From there it takes shape of five tiny baby mice I found when I was young

not old enough to open their eyes.
I lined a wide cup with paper towels to keep them clean and warm
and fed them with warm milk and an uncooked noodle so they would not starve

I knew that when I left them with my step mother

they had died

She couldn’t stand to look at them
much less be a mother to them

but i like to pretend they grew their grey fur thick and they are the ones scritching through my bones

releasing all the nasty residue that has come to rest there

because I loved them.