A Circle; The Process of Death

       One last breath slowly passed over my lips, down my neck, across my shoulders, wrapping around my back. Down to the Saltillo tiles, oscillating down the hallway, batted between paws, slipping out the door with a whip of the tail. Caught and carried by a breeze; up, up the trunk of a tree, delicately brushing each leaf. Blown into the open sky, caught under the fragile wing of a bird; tucked between wing and chest- air sacs whispering. Released by the flapping of wings, falling down, down. Following the old street, brushing against car tire, dog, construction cone. Stopped by a shoe, over the laces, up the careful seams of a worn corduroy pant leg, through the yellow plaid shirt where it embraces a shoulder. Running over the neck, climbing the chin, between the lips-a gasp, a recognition, a circle- and then my final breath is breathed in.