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So Jesus came to church as a ghost
and claimed to have said goodbye without meaning it.
This is his story - the chalice and the frame
that made him known, cunning dust, half songs
and Hellenic rows in fields without perspective.
This is his house; a roof with an unknown end,
an upturned ship, a lost atrium with sharp air.
But he cannot trust himself not to touch, and muses,
look, you are heedless; buried in beads.
poem by Leslie Philibert
Added by Poetry Lover
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