Heaven Is a Heavy House: Axe, Drawknife, Auger, Crosscut Saw

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.