before my cat died

From his lips slipped
miasma ——-
which took the guise of hope
which cooled into determination,
Slithering and sisyphus between our lips and ears,
passed back and forth encircling
and in circling, binding
our limbs and efforts into such poses
as our sickly-sweet eusonic missive allowed:
Hope in my lips, and tension in my musculature.