this
is
the only time I have ever seen
this
I have
looked out her window
for 37 years–
my grandmother, for 72.
but she
is
gone now
Too.
I stand here while
my father
sits in his chair and coughs.
on this
winter night
my brother
and
my cousins
and
a pickup bed for a hearse
casting
red taillights
glowing against
walls built of cedar
cedar that they
milled on
this land
from trees
whose roots drank the water and grew here.
these relatives
show their love with their hands
when the words will not come.
the coffin, the third one
the third one they have
built in 3 weeks
On

this land
it’s made
from red birch, it’s beautiful
how much does grief weigh
Vincent’s
strong shoulders
heavy
tight
tight from
cutting his hands
to pieces
from taking up the task
Of
building 3 boxes
Aspen

for
grandpa
Cedar
for
grandma

Birch
for
my godfather, Mike

let them be held
by
their favorite woods
of course
they had favorite trees.
there is a heart
in the knots that
naturally came together in the planks of one
without
anyone
planning it.
old snow,
crunchy when
you step on i
you can hear it
shatter as
my brother and
my cousins
carry Mike’s body
out
of
the chapel.