JANE never knew how he figured.
But when he did, he capsized.
The floating hothouse he had gifted.
Her with his dad's unsuspicious death.
Insurance money. He woke up.
The neighbors with his shoutshooting.
Now, JANE had been wrapping.
Her blanket over somebody else's.
Pig, it is true. But, she thought.
That this was some kind of overkill.
This vectoring into.
The Nuptial Void, as he called it.
And for what?
JANE knew that she still liked him.
Most and when he said that it wasn't.
Mutual, that was the first time it dawned.
On JANE that he would never learn.
How to lie even a little bit convincingly.
He was being too concise with his aspirations.
JANE thought in an impish yet stoic yet.
Shakespearian manner. JANE closed.
His breath under the lake.
It was not so much an act.
Of violence as she had mercy.
On her mind in the planning stages.
The crows queued up, expecting some.
Kind of edible face leakage on.
Her part. Per usual, JANE disappointed.
Daniela Olszewska is the author of two chapbooks, The Partial Autobiography of Jane Doe (dancing girl press) and Resort to Humming (Scantily Clad Press). She blogs at Bloody Ice Cream.