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Joy Ripping Into Silence
by  Anne Cunningham

i felt the outsider,
sitting there under my hair,
body knit up in wool,
wrapped in my signature
scarf of many colors,
gloves in my lap,
beneath chilled hands.

feeling alone
crowded into the space
leftover by buzz-cut males
with tightly permed wives,
their tots munching crackers,
tiny mouths busy mulching
instead of crying out loud.

the music swelled
and i saw you finally,
center of my universe,
your golden hair spilling
 loose from your Santa cap,
eyes wide in spirit bright,
singing my heart loose.

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