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Next Issue Peter Scupham at 85: a celebration Contributions by Anne Stevenson, Robert Wells, Peter Davidson, Lawrence Sail

This poem is taken from PN Review 3, Volume 4 Number 3, April - June 1978.

The Black Faced Sheep Donald Hall

Ruminant pillows! Gregarious soft boulders!

If one of you found a gap in a stone wall,
the rest of you-rams, ewes, bucks, wethers, lambs;
mothers and daughters, old grandfather-father,
cousins and aunts, small bleating sons-
followed onward, stupid
as sheep, wherever
your leader's sheep-brain wandered to.

My grandfather spent all day searching the valley
and edges of Ragged Mountain,
calling 'Ke-day!' as if he brought you salt,
'Ke-day! Ke-day!'

*

When a bobcat gutted a lamb at the Keneston place
in the spring of eighteen-thirteen
a hundred and fifty frightened black faced sheep
stopped eating, wasted, and died.

*

When the shirt wore out, and darns in the shirt needed darning,
...


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