Reuben Stiven

School: James Gillespie’s High School, Edinburgh
 

The Hunter

 

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.

 

 

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