The Ground Up

There was a black feather on the floor of this bedroom,
but it was not moving like anything in here,

it led a sedentary life,
parked,
sitting idly by while the rest of us gossiped,

while the rest of us stood up here,
too far from the ground,
like a carousel of chins,

without noticing its slow and steady decline,

it was a dark observer of plenty,
and no one bothered to ask how it got there,

whose departure set this dim residency into motion