Janey leaves alone
what she's left behind. A door,
closed, remains closed.
Dark remains dark
and Janey does not linger
long enough to fix the blame.

Janey breathes
a slashing, glassy air. She
stands, transfixed, wreathed;
her own breath her only halo.

Bio: Ron Lavalette lives and writes in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom. His work has appeared in dozens of online and print journals, including: (online) Conspire, Able Muse, Poems Niederngasse, Red River Review, and others; and (print) Lynx Eye, Maelstrom, Raintown Review, and others. A few other Janey poems can be found online by searching Mr. Lavalette's name. He says no two Janeys are alike, and claims to have the pictures to prove it. Please feel free to contact him at rdlbarton@netscape.net