Remembering Linda Rae York - the Truth at Last
Roanoke & Lexington Virginia 1962
Far off car, radio plays,
deep in night, stand and gaze,
by Roanoke's star, ruby haze.
Soft, her voice, sapphire eyes,
Linda's look, solemn sighs.
Misty too the future lays
summers lost, winters days
sudden endings by surprise
secrets tell not how they died
cruel love ended, ugly lies.
Promised lonely lives unmade,
moments lost too many days
far off lovers wander'd crazed,
left quite dark, broken ways.
Heavy heartsongs still get played
Wrinkled face, hair quite gray,
nightly memory sadly strays,
to sleepless time, to lonely maze
abandoned dreams, misty gaze
faroff eyes, soft, blue, gray.
Her summer voice on mountains made
sweet gentle music, passing played,
echoed answers quickly fade,
so swiftly gone, so saddened days,
unforgiven, cruel, passed that way.
A Coward's Secret
Deprogrammed dazed a
rat in maze he's held there crazed
screamed threats for days
they could not stop the vicious ways
til manboy, weak, afraid, obeys
In Lex motel Teal and Dan
sigh relief at their young "man"
course re-set, back in traces,
harnessed up, a mule now paces
smiling now, they've got their plan.
Four days locked he's hazed, amazed
a deprogramming reprogramming awful phase
threats, and charges, shouts and plays
kidnapped, sequestered, imprisoned, ways
until at last, broken he sways, ok's...
Motel door bursts open, wild, raged,
manboy programmed, robot, crazed
leans breathless, the frozen phone booth
dials, ugly, mean uncouth, lies,
zombie, repeats ugly untruth.
"I don't love you" quick he lies
spit out, o'er cliff he flies
fast so fast momentum went
no clawing back no silence bent
but stupid neutered manboy, cries
Aghast a moan moves back by wire
"I don't believe you" hard she cries.
Tears stream down both their faces.
Love's murdered lost embraces,
faint, each falls, alone, cold fire.
A decade, two, then more,
a Thanksgiving day implores
he calls her mother, just once more
"She's not here" throat full, she lies
"Leave her alone" voice breaks, she cries
As close as breath
her voice, her scent
guilty sorrows, senses rent
the truth is hidden
the story, unbidden.
Perhaps she's forgotten
that call misbegotten
she sweet, he rotten,
she off to nurse,
he lost. Cursed.
Each day forever now he dies
a coward's limp sick liar's lies
an ugly crooked truth untold,
her, crusted wounds now simply, old
his, coward's death, alone
Daniel Friedman's Poetry & Short Stories
Daniel Friedman's bio
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