The Rescue

She piled harsh weeds under the wheel,
the spinning tires chewed them up
and spit them out, the car sank
in its tracks, a sound like a sob
boiled over in the winter dusk.
The road waited, a lone tree
leered at her, she felt fingering eyes
from fields and ditch strip her
naked to her fear. A hoarse voice
mocked her muddy thoughts, blasphemed
her virgin’s sweat, the oracle
of the day shaped like a crow
bowed as it sang. The car died
in its breath, quivered at the shout
of another engine . . . suddenly lights
seized her and held her and a shape
moved from behind them like a
shadow on a wall.