She sat in the standard-issue grey plastic
mottled chair. She was rocking her skeletal
frame, back and forth, forth and back,
it was like her spine was going to snap.
I was holding it. The little toy mouse
that your cat used to play with. I loved
that mouse, so you gave it to me, to take with
me to hospital appointments, to give me strength.
I was holding it, the little toy mouse.
She was rocking, I was holding, we sat
together in sisterly sadness. I reached out.
I handed her the mouse and she smiled.
