Poets for Science
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DR. HARVEY CUSHING WRITES A SONNET With lines from his diaries and notes

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You ask about facts whole-souled objects of excitement.

Society dotes on war and the wounded as the cranium opens like a crater

with snow vanishing under its warm skull.

A sea of mud against fragments. We are slowly learning

every surgical operation is a miracle.

Still the pollard willows transcend comprehension

hang on for months. There’s tenderness

for familiar things like bones encircling

ragged percussions.

We seem to be of guns.

Veritable white squall burning out.

What has been accomplished does not die.

Birds regain use of speech. All the talk

mostly starlings though one doesn’t get the whole story from the autopsy.