School: James Gillespie’s High School, Edinburgh
You run from my ever-searching spheres of glittering glass
that scour the floor of my home like a scythe,
raking through the grass to find you.
To kill you.
My wings are arcing blades
that slice through the stars, a shadow
flitting over the moon.
My talons are pincers that clasp
your body, dragging you to your demise.
I will trap you in the confines
of my conifer house,
a fortress in the trees.
My beak is a cleaver, stripping your flesh
from your meagre bones.
My neck is a whip that rounds on you.
You’re the last grain of sand in my hourglass –
I’ll watch you fall.