We joke about who will die
first but we both know it will likely be you.
We hold hands
while walking the dog, make
her “talk” and argue
about who she loves more.
I adopted her years before
but before long we both craved
your scent. One day I’ll donate
your organs and hope
your eyes, your lungs, your heart
live on in another. For now, I put
my feet on your calves in bed
and you yelp at the cold then
move your legs to sandwich
my frozen toes and curl your
whole body around me, reminding
me of the home I found in you.
