The duckling on its crooked legs,
Wandering the pond
For a place to hide.
In reeds,
The crying rings out,
A loud woman on a drunk.
Friends of the counterculture
She found,
The teases of old enemies
Upon her.
Janis,
A woman of her
Words and wits,
The keeper of heavy blues.
Her dying moments,
The telegram lost,
A fire swallowed,
The memoriam of love and life
Not realized.