Winter 1956 • Vol. XVIII No. 1 Poetry |

Sheep

Led by Johns Hopkins on a trip through the heart To the uttermost reaches of the body, I was disappointed by X-ray and camera At what was to be found there. Mostly I missed the green pastures Which I knew lay on either side of the path, The running streams of tears in their salty waters, Their crystal waters, and the steadfast sheep. Sheep of my heart, where do you nibble, At the pump of the ventricle, course of the artery, That you do not look up into the camera To tell on what you feed?

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Led by Johns Hopkins on a trip through the heart To the uttermost reaches of the body, I was disappointed by X-ray and camera At what was to be found […]

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