For the Dead

I dreamed I called you on the telephoneto say: Be kinder to yourselfbut you were sick and would not answer

The waste of my love goes on this waytrying to save you from yourself

I have always wondered about the left-overenergy, the way water goes rushing down a hilllong after the rains have stopped

or the fire you want to go to bed frombut cannot leave, burning-down but not burnt-downthe red coals more extreme, more curiousin their flashing and dyingthan you wish they weresitting long after midnight