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Bones

Gospel

By Reginald Harris | Posted 4/10/2002

spills out from the headphones
to hum low in her throat.

So full, the music over-
flows from her mouth

onto the crowded bus,
bursts from her as she leaves

to fill the morning streets
with song, with praise.

Commuters murmur, nudge each
other, laugh at her departure,

return to silence, morning
papers, their own thoughts

Contemplate
a God-shaped echo in the air.

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