Down by the Riverside
Today, I walked down by
the Riverside
Realty sign in front of
the white house
where my neighbor hung
herself last
year. Early modern build, wide
soffits, straight
lines of brick and wood
at odds
with one another. The gate
was open,
so I crossed wet, suburban grass
to the back
yard and looked inside
through miles
of picture window glass: scuffed
parquet, probably
beyond repair, and a loose coaxial
cable for a TV
ain’t nobody gonna study
no more. But,
then, an open door, and the damp
garage. Exposed
rafters, joists, and collar
beams—just as I
imagined. 2 x 8’s and 10’s
for the load
they were meant, and never
meant, to bear
before somebody laid their
burden down.