In the Between
       

A woman I knew (a neighbor)
called for my attention but a feather
caught the sewer—a jay's, I think. or crow's
blue-black as Kali—struggling,

before I heard the woman calling.
She was waving, too, I think, but salads
through the pavement—chicory, dandelion
too—were sprouting in the bursts of light beside

the hero of an elm, the sidewalk buckling to
accommodate the root. Then the feather took the view,
twisting, releasing, as if it were a ghosted
bird. a soul migrating.

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Copyright © 2015 Kathleen Hellen All rights reserved
from The Carolina Quarterly
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission