Zan Bockes Vigil (for Zander, 6/21/88 to 8/9/07) Still, the slatted light lingers in this faded room, the blind shadows spread across the bed where you lie dying. I know I need to let you go, but not yet. The days blur and dwindle, the promise of survival leaking away with evening. Once an orange kitten, you laid your paw on my cheek, purring as I breathed, sustaining me when I wished for death myself. Now I fear to leave your side, do not want your soul to take flight without my eyes to catch it, without my hand in your rumpled fur easing your slip into memory. Your eyes turn distant, your mouth opens, yet your ribs still rise and fall rise again, fall again, rise... Is this your last breath? This?

---