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For Jane

A poem

A flash of lightning
His life was gone
Hurled up in the air by a car

Ragdoll-like, puppet with no strings

Without knowing, in that second
She was bereft
Rap rap on her door, police
He’s cold an hour now

Cards flowed in, meaningless,
Her love was gone
She was a puppet on a string
Thank you for coming

No sophistry for thishow could she
Plan to be a widow?

Hurled up in the air her life
How does one proceed without her late- no,
Her dead husband

Published in The Lark