Limits Exist Only In Your Mind (For Helena)
A wet sheet of sky
lays low in the truck bed
like a slab of drywall. All spring
I look down from the second floor window
through the window of water
until it is covered with helicopters
from the silver maple tree.
On a Saturday in June
Achilles hauls the rain up Route 3
to the NorthStar Golf Club where
he loses to Paul
who cheated on hole nine
On the Fourth of July
he finds his mother on the floor
wrapped in television light.
He plasters the room of her death
in cloud. Sealed, it lifts,
lighter than air, an unwept tear
vaporizing in the summer sun
before the cookout and the fireworks.