Sliding
On the ice in the playground
One winter at school
One of the older boys slipped,
Banged his head and had a fit.
He lay there on his side,
Eyes open wide, head
Jerking up and down, knocking
Against the ground, until
Blood oozed from his temple
And coloured the frozen snow
Strawberry-ice-lolly red.
We all stood and stared, our
Breath hanging in the air,
Suspended in an emptiness
Which deadened every sound
Except the sickening thud, thud, thud
Of his head against the ground.
Eventually one of the other
Older kids went over, held
The boy’s head against the ice
Until it was still, and laid a leather
Jacket over his shoulder.
Then the boy came round,
And the teachers took him away,
Blood still dripping from his head.
And we all carried on sliding
But not where the ice was red.
Page(s) 24
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