BY Natalie Crick

See

The moon hangs in utter darkness,
A smoldering black,

A crack of light
Disappearing almost,
The world paused outside.

Blood’s blue shadow
Barely runs beneath her skin.

Her eyes glitter
Like fire, wisps of inked
Paper that one day will curl and smoke

Rising into the abysmal fields of
Some star-haunted place, some
Suddenly interrupted, fathomless sky.

Daydreaming

Thoughts come easily
At dusk when beekeeper’s ghosts
Move through the empty orchard.

That moment before sleep,
Black nor white but
Something in between

Casts its spell.
The river of dripping saltwater pearls,
The withered moor,

The ashen lake
Where nothing stirs or alarms,
Where no birds sing.

 

Natalie Crick, from Newcastle, UK, graduated from Newcastle University with a degree in English Literature and plans to pursue an MA at Newcastle this year. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in The Lake, Ink Sweat and Tears, Poetry Pacific, Interpreters House and Jet Fuel Review, and anthologies, Lehigh Valley Vanguard Collections, Vol. 13 and  Crooked Holster: An Anthology of Crime & Thriller Writing, Vol. 3.  In 2016, her poem ‘Sunday School’ was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.