Fugue: Neonatal Unit The pulse oximeter, I like to see it lap the Miles-- you and the fueling, the oxygen-- the saturations they'd watch you for the night, a distance covered and the heat lamp's one absolute: I'll tell you how the Sun rose-- A Ribbon at a time--. The weeks: blood from the heel you tired at the early work and tubes the thin gold milk our picture propped by the isolette our voices And lick the Valleys up-- recorder trios on the tape all the Dickinson Monitors now loud Then quivered out of Decimals--Into Degreeless Noon the muted percentages fear what regulates, sustains small blood-pressure cuff and the body finds its own warmth. The last washing, washing of hands to be clean enough so as to say These are the days when skies resume.
Fugue: Neonatal Unit.
Christie, A.V.
Fugue: Neonatal Unit The pulse oximeter, I like to see it lap the Miles-- you and the fueling, the oxygen-- the saturations they'd watch you for the night, a distance covered and the heat lamp's one absolute: I'll tell you how the Sun rose-- A Ribbon at a time--. The weeks: blood from the heel you tired at the early work and tubes the thin gold milk our picture propped by the isolette our voices And lick the Valleys up-- recorder trios on the tape all the Dickinson Monitors now loud Then quivered out of Decimals--Into Degreeless Noon the muted percentages fear what regulates, sustains small blood-pressure cuff and the body finds its own warmth. The last washing, washing of hands to be clean enough so as to say These are the days when skies resume.