A smudge, a crime scene finger print,
a photograph in negative –
Through salty waves,
you ripple. A watery illusion.
Milky fingers stretch, reaching
out for my old calloused hands.
A barrier remains between us,
soft and stony, stuck.
Your sonar pulse beats and beats,
an inescapable drum that never stops.
Eyes tightly shut, blinded to the world
but captured in image forever.
Your moon face glows ethereally,
lighting up midnight and life.
Within, but so far away.
Kirsty Niven lives in Dundee, Scotland where she works at the University of Dundee. She previously studied there, earning a first class MA (Hons) in English and studying creative writing modules under the tutelage of Kirsty Gunn and James Stewart.