Ivermectin

“My guinea pig has lice,”

she says, which means

a veterinarian and an

ivermectin prescription,

Google says, which means

a drive too long for the

ailing minivan, the

check engine light says,

which means the mechanic

again and time off work and

a loan, my account balance says,

but she held him close

when COVID closed the world

and she could not hug

friends, this warm little creature

cooing on her chest, nibbling

hay as she Zoomed with

her teacher who would die,

so many would die,

“I’m sorry,” I say,

“we’ll help him.”