This is not as I expected.
In this mess, you shall not miss me,
I have decided.
Ready for war,
Such fireworks, they upset me.
Blood falls down.
Oh, how I envy you!
You are always there
As roots cling to Earth.
With hair and wings.
I pass out and let strangers touch me.
A nest of eggs.
White ovaries crowd inside like pale globes.
I hatch one out: a dirty chick
Crouching yellow in the corner. I catch the drips of
Filthy Witch, I am chasing stars.
Bastard. My vagina opens like a wound.
The red sea parts and you run to me.
You have found me out!
Fireworks dive through my fingertips.
I will cut your face clean off.
Blame teases your breasts.
My shame is stuck in the air like rape,
Alone with God and
Turned out like a soiled cloth.
I am awful and deaf.
They arrange themselves on sandy beaches.
Natalie Crick has found delight in writing all of her life and first began writing when she was a very young girl. Her poetry is influenced by melancholic confessional Women’s poetry. Her poetry has been published in a range of journals and magazines including Cannons Mouth, Cyphers, Ariadne’s Thread, Carillon and National Poetry Anthology 2013.