Before they die, 
we see them more often,
so warm 
their hugs leave marks 
on our clothes.
Usually, they call for no reason,
saying only, We wanted to check in. 
They apologize for bothering us 
as we watch the hyenas in our lives
come and go. 
They visit two days 
before they disappear, 
leaving only sad air behind 
to take their place.
When their eyes shut,
our clothes stiffen on our chests. 
Then we remember the unexpected call
and the air turns sadder. 
That is how they message us before they die—
messages no one else sends,
unlike any other message,
saying: Death sits with us at the table 
and we have no choice 
but to visit those we love 
more than they were accustomed to 
two days 
before extinction.