The asp still coiled around my wrists,
I cradle it even now,
another subject to nurse –
Its final kiss, its magic strike
a marvellous thing.
My salad days wither and wrinkle
at its sinful touch.
A refusal to kiss a conquering hand,
to obey, to kneel as a queen.
Infinitely Isis, my love
pours out across the land –
rebirthing a nation,
swaddling them in gold cloth.
Not an enchantress,
a mother –
Not another Shakespearean tragedy,
Kirsty A. Niven is from Dundee, Scotland where she lives with her husband and cats. Her poetry has appeared in a number of places including Artificial Womb, The Dawntreader, Dundee Writes, Cicada Magazine and Laldy.