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Sitting Indian Style

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Sitting Indian Style

Sitting Indian Style Sitting Indian Style
A porch in the front –
near roses,
near metal milk crates

above colored slate
from Vermont –
is where a child sits
Indian Style,

on top of pieces of uneven
wood – 
warped wood – paint
  peeling – a dull

 shade of gray
A porch where two
doors – lead to
two families living

in a city – on a corner
lot – a city filled
with children who
played in streets and alleyways –

As a child watched
from her front porch – she
would smile if a friend

 walked by –
  Indian Style – her Aunt
  told her,
“That just isn’t lady like.”

She smiled at her Aunt, and
smiled at a friend who never
smiled back – and the next time she
smiled, and the next –

never did she glance her way –
Her mother told her,
“find another friend,
  friends don’t ignore a friend.”

Ignore, what is ignore?
A big word when all
they taught us in school was
“See Jack run, run Jack run.”

But, soon a little girl would hide near
her house – near a green bush – covered

  with red beans, they once shared – now

  out of sight until she walked by 
 the porch –
scuffing her feet across cracked
  cement – looking straight ahead.
Her legs crossed, she sat 
 Indian Style
  picking at pieces of wood –

she sucked on a sliver

a smile on her face, fades, and
a stray tear rolled down her- right cheek
  caught at the edge of her lip
 on the right – she smiled as
teardrops fell, scooting her body

to the right, without
  standing – to the right
  toward a metal milk

 box – then, she opened the lid,  
inside a milk box her

paper dolls were waiting –
  It was then she knew
  her friends – they smiled back.

Sitting Indian Style was last modified: December 26th, 2014 by Nancy Duci Denofio

3 Responses to "Sitting Indian Style"

  1. Andrew J. Sacks  Sunday, May 26, 2013 at 21:17

    Thank you for fine and memorable poem, Nancy.

  2. Gabriel Constans  Sunday, May 26, 2013 at 22:22

    Great insight and powerful images Nancy.

  3. Nancy Duci Denofio  Wednesday, June 26, 2013 at 23:15

    I love to drift back to another time, write about it, and then dream. I told myself, “I can dream anywhere, and the words will come.” I am so pleased both you Andrew and Gabriel, enjoyed this piece, it’s non fiction, as most of my work. Thank you so much. Sincerely, Nancy


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