You fell the trees,

You limb them, peel them,

And skid them out.

You raise a heavy house

With heavy rooms,

A heavy loft.

A heavy wet snow

Falls in May,

Snows you in

For five days.

That snow makes new grass heavy,

And heavy with flowers.

There is a heaven

And you are alone in it—

Not even a voice

To talk to yourself in—

Just swerving memories

Of hope and fear

So lethally ephemeral—

A girl playing guitar

And horses in the yard.

You wait for the horse

That comes to your gate

With a bullet hole in his forehead.

He doesn’t want anything.

He stares at you,

Then wheels and gallops away,

Leaving you

In the heavy house

You made from life.

A heavy wet snow.

It’s like the floor of the sky

Fell out.