In Surgical Wing, surrealistic poems visit an experimental hospital ward, manifesting visions of winged angels and medical tests, as we bear witness to a doctor’s’ meddling and miracles. Robertson’s poems challenge the internal and external metamorphoses of the human condition and the juxtaposition between death and life by personifying the soul through images of birds.
From “You’re About to Fold a Paper Airplane”:
Build evidence of air. Pull the results of your blood test from the mailbox. Fold in half: you have wings already.
Abnormal? Fold again. You can’t see the inner-workings of an aircraft. And when you’re folding, you can’t study
much else. Book your tumor markers a flight to Bora Bora. Vector, Victor. Clearance, Clarence. On any scrap of paper
write carry. Write heavenward. Write I choose this over you. Replace this. With flying. With peregrination. Or write
A stunning, complicated collection. I’ve dipped in and out of this collection a few years now and finally sat down and read the poems in order over a few days. Favorites: “Driving to My Friend’s House to Assist Her Suicide,” “Haint Ceilings,” “Crane Wife,” “Loon,” “Birdwatchers.”
Surgical Wing Kristin Robertson Reviewed by Ray Zimmerman
Kristin Robertson opens her collection with an image of herself as a Phoenix rising from the flames of a neighbor's bonfire. She has survived surgery and longs to fly free. Her poems are populated by winged creatures: angels, birds, and mythical beasts. They are also home to people who struggle against dark forces to survive. She juxtaposes sickness and death against health and healing in a unique inspiring and unified statement.