Natalie Crick


Night is an open mouth.

Her touch minnows the water,


Whispers leaves as if

Through lace to some


Forbidden ear,

Combs my hair with glassy fingers,


A memory of her breath

Heard beneath the door,


The warmth apparent

That haunts her absent lungs.


Ghosts are there to see by.

You remember.



Natalie Crick, from the UK, has poetry published or forthcoming in a range of journals and magazines, including Interpreters House, The Chiron Review, Rust and Moth, Ink in Thirds and The Penwood Review. This year her poem, "Sunday School" was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.