The Playground

black blood drips across the icy asphalt,suffocating,
the rats only playground.

an empty bottle rolls over,
the inky streets,
like a limerick off an Irish man's tongue,

a child peddles forward,
down cemetery hill,
observing the darkness,
of a centuries past killer,

picking up speed,
the pedals spin furiously,
as the small boy blazes by,
a cracked headstone,

a cough echoes,
displacing the warmth,
inside lungs,

the child gasps,
as the wind chills his lifeless breath,

it overcomes,
losing grip on the handlebars,

the gliding tires,
begin to skid on a patch of sand,

Disrupting the center of gravity,
the boy tumbles,
a violent head over heels,
onto the frozen blackness...