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
I can’t fear you another morning. And fold.