Poem: Weathervanes & Paper Planes

Poem: Weathervanes & Paper Planes


The poems and prose in Amanda Torroni's new book, Stargazing at Noon, unfold in moon phases, beginning with a fullness, then purging. This poem, Weathervanes & Paper Planes, is from the gibbous phase.


Rain tap dancing on a tin roof,
the rusty staccato of toe and heel,
a weathervane stuck on West—

who needs prediction
when you are the prevailing wind,
the constant, neither light,
nor variable, a migratory bird
who comes back

year. after year. after year.

We stare at the horizon
& wait for the future
to arrive.

We reach for the sun,
as if our hands could hold fire,
as if it were a copper coin

& the night,
a bottomless well.

I wish.

Read more about Amanda's connection to poetry, along with her poem Wild Thing, here.

From Stargazing at Noon, copyright © 2019 by Amanda Torroni. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.

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