Saturday book feature — The Book of a Small Fisherman — J.R. Solonche

Wings are all around me.
The air has wings of wings.

The air flies between the birds and the dragonflies.
The air flies on wings invisible to the naked eye.

All around everything is wings.
The sky wears the white wings of clouds.

The clouds have their own white wings.
The blue eyes of the sky fly on golden wings.

The blue eyes of the sun stare into the sun’s gold eye and not go blind.
The blue wings of the sky do not melt in the stare of the sun.

Wings are all around me.
The fly’s wings buzz a black poem.

The darning needle’s wings sew the hem of the afternoon.
The hummingbird’s wings are invisible to the wingless eye.

The crow’s wings are folded like arms akimbo.
The hawk’s wings are haughty professors of physics.

The great blue heron’s wings wait in the wings.
The swan’s wings are whiter than an angel’s inner thigh.

The angel’s wings are extraordinary lies.
Only I do not have wings.

Only I want nothing to do with wings
except to sleep like the swift on the wing.

by J.R. Solonche from The Book of a Small Fisherman (Shanti Arts, 2023)

Cover design: Christine Cote

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