The 2River View | 21.4 (Summer 2017) |
Natalie Crick The sky’s pale luminescence Shoots lisp through soil, They’re queened, She arrives, babbling with flowers, Buds sleep in velvet cases The lawn blue as dusk falls. Soul-Seeker Like a wrought birch in dead earth, The bank of fern stands poised. No feral wail from the hills, Only bones Ashen remains Strewn in the storm, The fruit from the trees He waits. Not even a worthless soul He picks up a lifeless bird Natalie Crick has poetry published or forthcoming in journals such as The Chiron Review, Ink in Thirds, Interpreters House, The Penwood Review, and Rust and Moth. She lives in the United Kingdom.
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