My Heart is an Iceberg With Your Name On It

Killian MacDonald

I am a prospector

crouching with mud up to my ankles on the edge

of your river


There with my sieve and my hands and my hope

and nothing to turn back to if I end the day



I let the rubbish fall out, scrape the mud

of your indifference through the mesh

But the words! Those eyes!

Them, I keep.

I bite down on these fragments of conversations

and they hold, real

I lift these stares across rooms up to the light

and they shine, real

I pull your friendship apart until it is bare

tenderness and name it valuable


Do you see that?

I have struck gold, surely!

I will move further up the river and find more

I will sift these waters until I am rich

I will tread these banks until you love me

I will move my claim line closer until you and I

call the same land our own


I am walking your shores in bare feet

so as not to erode your natural shape

I fish plastic bottles of insecurities from your waters

I wander with curiosity and affection and want

and ask for a little gold in return


but I am too shy to swim

so, your waters pass me by, giving me gems

or debris depending on the current


and I sit, barefoot, sifting mud

brushing cigarette butts from your banks like

eyelashes from your cheeks

Killian MacDonald is a trying-to-be writer of North Queensland origin studying creative writing at Kelvin Grove. His usual writing styles include short to not-quite-short poetry and fantasy with a sprinkling of angry slam when he’s worked up. He loves fictional podcasts, slow-burn enemies-to-lovers, all dogs and most cats. If you have photos of your pets, he would love to see them.