Poem: Jane Doe


No one knew what she had done

in her black clothes

with dark circles under her eyes

It wasn’t the song she remembered long ago

nor the one thing she couldn’t possibly know

Tossed out of the car

headfirst down the embankment

her seat belt cut in two,

safety was never part of her life

when danger was a thick witch’s brew

The stranger came across the scene

his shoe prints in the dirt

His fingers meant nothing at all

he wasn’t the killer in the clean shirt

No one knew her name or true age

no premature white hair among the red

Hidden for a while by the trees

no one knew what she had said


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