We hold her
while the chemicals
gently stop her heart,
hold one of the last things
we love in common.
We rub her ears and murmur,
"Good girl. Such a good
girl."
And then there's just a body.
Where she goes
we've only seen in flashes –
dreams, deep pain,
or fast collapses –
whenever what in us will last
goes wandering and then returns.
Or when it stays, and waits
unresurrected.