My daughter has befriended
The little girl who died
In the movie
Drawing pictures of her, asking
For two glasses of water
In the middle of the night, and
Protectively buckling the seat
Belt around nothingness.
They share secrets and whispers,
Her teacher wondering
Why she sits to one side
Of her chair, an extra pencil
Lying on the desk; watching her
On the playground pushing
An empty swing, which jerks
And sometimes bumps into her
Shins. These are the things
You do for friends
Even, or perhaps
Especially, dead ones.
