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.