Roadkill Poem by Leslie Ching

In the city of darkness
Stark grey roads wind and twist,
Paved over with asphalt
Colder than the hearts of the millionaires
Whose extravagant abodes sit upon them;

Is
there
anything
wrong?

On a street void of breath and life
Lies a small brown form,
Lifeline drawn out in a trail of red.
Fur matted with blood,
Its limp tail twitches like a marionette
Playing a final act in the empty breeze.
Only the wind howls its hollow grief;

No,
there's
nothing
wrong