They Murdered a Prostitute On the 66

They murdered a prostitute last night on the 66.
Under the night sky
The creepers crept.
Slowly stalking their prey as she paraded in high heels
And bent over to reveal a little less than underwear.

She had no idea of her fate.
A job well done, her last client was asking for more.

The last car passed and as light lost touch with her existence,
They sprung up;
The briers and thorns.
Cleaving to her curved hips.

Rape they said.
She was a night worker, they said.
Does that mean she deserved it?
I asked.