Have you heard death in the divine strike of bird and glass? The clash of time and vision. If a robin—sign of spring and good luck—should come to you, listen. Its song will disturb the sound of rain pounding dead leaves. Now you are the curious person risen from the couch, called by nature’s strike. You find a robin looking up at you through the mystic glass, awestruck, beak agape, while on the porch another robin lies on her back on the wet cement. It was she who dove head-first into the drizzling forever world. You arrive witness to her legs jerking in air, like a sad, asynchronous swimmer, in her final dance of death pain. Her stunned sister meets your eyes and flies away. You will retrieve gloves from the closet, go into the cool rain and scoop her up, hands cupped as if to hold holy water. You will put her in a proper place, under the pine tree, shelter her still body with leaf litter.
Kayla McCollough graduated from PSU in May 2020 with an MA in English. She often writes introspective poems that explore emotions and the daily struggles with anxiety. Sometimes these poems turn into songs. In her spare time, Kayla cares for plants and creates macrame and embroidery projects. When it’s warm, she’s outside soaking up the sun and enjoying birds or other creatures.
LORI MARTIN is associate professor of English at Pittsburg State University. She’s had both poetry and fiction published in magazines like Prick of the Spindle, The MacGuffin, (parenthetical), Room Magazine, Grass Limb, The Knicknackery, The Maine Review and upcoming in The Tampa Review. Martin is poetry editor for The Midwest Quarterly.