7/28/10

   K
Eyes closed,
passion filling
her face,
her body
is inhabited
by song.
For hours
long she
croons and
cries from soul
depths poets
write about.
Her bloodstream
made of music,
she would bleed
sounds which
make our red cells
rich when her
ample body
reaches forever
at the Olympics
or on DVD
and she
swells with
Halleluia.

You might think
she's K D Lang
but I tell you
angels are
among
us.

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