Fixing his motorcycle, dormant all winter
He found a nest of mice
Huddled together in the tailpipe
The fearful mother fled, abandoning
Her doomed baby, eyes shut, helpless.
How could she? It’s instinct. Save yourself.
The baby’s mouth opened and closed, imploring
The world for sustenance, comfort
Why should I pity this vermin who, grown, would only
Plague me later? But dutifully, with eyedropper, I fed it
Formula, the false milk of man
And, of course, it died.