J. R. Solonche


The window,
a sky composed of a single cloud
somewhere near the sun,

the desk lamp,
a sun diffused through fog
rising over a lake,

the green blotter on the desk,
a lake with rising fog,

my glasses on the desk beside the green blotter,
a bicycle rusting in the undergrowth
beside a lake,

my left hand,
three wild swans rising through
fog rising.

J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines since the 70s and is the author of six poetry collections.