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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