roger singer | she cries of voice

She steps into the music.
Her fingers, thin brown pencils
sign the beauty of her voice
into the microphone;
a signature pressing through


Red singing lips. The voices of
voices within. Waters of her
storms gust to the surface.
Her rough sound blows
the crowd into smooth.


Her feathered hat; stiff
proud wings, like Mercury’s
shoes on the run.
A black veil mists her face.


She cries of voice
from years of covering.

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