The moment I relent and push
aside the sheets and, sighing,
worm my way out of bed,
the dog pops out from underneath
the frame, hops up the mattress
in a single move and curls
around the very spot where I
just lifted my head. And when
our loved ones die
we find
ourselves returning, in the
world and in our minds,
to those same spots where they
lived out their lives, as if for us
to absorb through pores and skin
the last warm breaths of those
places we knew them in.