Near the riverbank where we
Buried her, I light a candle
And wait, patient as a hunter
Detecting what the beast will do
In the next moment.
Someone, somewhere, will see it.
Barn owls celebrate
Over their cathedral of bones,
Screaming skies clawed with crows.
The man asleep on his lumpy mattress
Has a head full of ghosts and
Sad, erotic dreams.
Gulls rise, small white banshees
Worshipping the sun.
Natalie Crick, from Newcastle in the UK, has found delight in writing all of her life and first began writing when she was a very young girl. She 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 a range of journals and magazines including The Lake, Ink Sweat and Tears, Poetry Pacific, Interpreters House and Jet Fuel Review. Her work also features or is forthcoming in a number of anthologies, including Lehigh Valley Vanguard Collections 13. This year her poem, 'Sunday School' was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.