Norma Stevens' body lay by the roadside
Next to an upturned bottle of liquor
Had she finally lost her pride?
An unusual zeal lay about her
On that passion-filled night.
It was deadness that surrounded her -
A scarlet front smeared in light.
Life flickered about her,
As drizzle drenched her skin.
Beneath a flash of vengeful lightning –
Sin would now begin.
Was it she herself who brought her here?
Was it a gun?
Was it a knife?
As lightning dashed her figure -
Eyelashes brought her to life.
Within an inverted glove -
Her discoverer would find the key.
A blazing cigarette –
Placed there to startle me.
There by the roadside
She lay.
Most certainly dead.
Not to herself.
But those who failed to catch
A clear view of her head.
