Marsha Lee Recknagel
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A Friend
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Inseparable, they called us,
and we were.
Through school we were like
eccentric actresses,
flighty,
our moods found no mediums
only extremes
like all young girls changing,
confused,
like a snake must be seeing his old
skin lying lifeless
next to him.
We grew together so long
we finally grew apart.
I, going off to school,
You, going crazy.
Your letters to me,
strange ranting.
The familiar squiggly writing
by some unknown hand
guiding what once was Jane.
Lives no longer rhyming,
awkward in our new roles.
I was busy trying to
untangle us.
You confident in your insanity,
me, unsure of mine.
They wrote me long letters
explaining you to me.
Locked you up, a part of me,
in a cold white hospital.
I cried for both of us.
Because I knew
you were only laughing.
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Oklahoma
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You seemed so harsh
in your freshness,
smelling of cornflakes,
sweet hay drying in fields.
Basking in a flood of sunshine
I wilted.
Dust got into my life,
Between my teeth, in my eyes,
Settling into a film of silt
on the top of my water glass.
You seemed so young, in a hurry,
Mocking me for my slow manner, soft drawl.
I was a stranger among cowboys
wearing shiny boots, red kerchiefs
lassoing long hairs Saturday nights.
Your Indians, not tall, proud,
like Geronimo on a Cheerio box
but stumpy, with pimples and squinting eyes.
You were to be my escape
from the cobweb world of large white houses
nigger maids.
I traveled your boundaries
But found that you were only a state
Not a visa to happiness.
So I left you.
Now I’m still searching,
Journeying within different borders,
Wandering, still restless, within myself.
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