A trail of cursive smoke.
She probed the apple
Turned to bruise,
Juice bleeding into skin,
Soft as a small skull,
Pressed her nail into the pear
Leaving a dirty moon
In the meat of the fruit.
It receded from touch,
Like a Woman
Who has been hit before.
Her fingers drip
Wax.
The corpse candles reveal
Their death walks.
Author Bio:
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. Her poetry is melancholic and confessional, inspired by female poets like Sylvia Plath and Louise Gluck. In her spare time she enjoys yoga and painting. 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.