KIRSTY A. NIVEN

★ ★ ★ ★

POETRY

Prophecy

Last night I dreamt of a future, 

of the greatest story that could be told— 

a comedy, a romance, a tragedy, 

played out in our blood and tears. 

Joy and agony foretold in your eyes, 

a lightness I have always longed for.

Our love an omen, our kiss a symbol— 

your smile the horoscope’s catalyst. 

An angelic vision, a sacramental gift

that both tortures and relieves.

A delectable destiny that can only destroy.

Serious possibilities and decisions

but no way to actualise this dream. 

I choke on the wings of desire.

Into The Wild

When I tuck into your chest, bare skin

against my cheek, you exhale softly

like a steam train embarking somewhere new

and pushing out of the brick-laid station

into the endless openness of heather glens

without a civilisation encroaching on the horizon. 

I have to pull in closer and closer, my lips

pressing against you, and breathe in as much

of the wilderness you exude as I can.

Five Minutes

Numbed with wine and a surge of confidence, 

I clamp down on you, my legs a vice grip.

Elation consumes us both,

cheesy smiles mirroring

and we laugh. 

Peaceful blankness invades your features, 

adrenaline twists on my tongue—

my serpentine heart writhes as we slither.

As my body drops onto yours, 

I feel your cheek grin against mine.

Breaths gather, tremors ease— 

your voice a still ocean, 

your neck a refuge. 

Hands run over me for one last touch.

The stars glint in your upwards eyes.

We unravel unwillingly.