The Accidental Death of a Boy in Morning Traffic

That morning had the signs, I guess,
The frosty light refused to grow,
The damp and cold and bitterness
Clung onto pavements white with snow.

Cars stood steaming in the cold
Impatient when the lights turned red;
Drivers occupied with phones,
Distracting children late to bed,

GPS and babies’ cries,
Radio news and texts to send,
Late appointments fixed with lies,
Enough to drive you round the bend.

A car accelerated now,
(The distant traffic lights turned green)
As focus on the phone hid how
A teenage boy in hood and jeans

Had raced his bike across the road.
He did not signal, did not look
He had no lights, no fear, no load
Of bag or books. That’s all it took,

The bike and car will occupy
Too small a space outside the school
Thus turning morning routine rides
To noise and shock and pain so cruel.

Only half awake at eight
A headstrong, happy handsome boy
A boy who knew that he was late,
Seduced by speed, the wind was joy.

That lithe, athletic boy just flew
Across the greasy tarmac, smashed
Against the hood and bounced off stone
As screams and paint and blood and bone

Spilled out to chill the startled air.
Now cars moved on, the buses too,
And no one seemed to see or care
About that scene now out of view.


Nick Darlington