first snow of winter
candles light up every room--
hydro's out again
The Friends You Lose
They float in photographs
shrinking, becoming daily more fantastical,
Like death, it seems impossible.
Where a river divides, rocky water roars tumult.
Go ahead, paddle:
you might slip alive down that,
but you'll never get back up it.
The dream-embryo friend is floating
far away down the other stream,
and even if the water were silent,
would not hear you
over the roaring.