The Hush – Natalie Crick

The Hush

Pine limbs sleep
silent under snow.
Cattle low like preachers.

The dead listen.
Shrouded by cornstalks
they stand enrapt.

I light a candle and watch the smoke curl
until it twists into moths:
they whisper before they leave for good.

It is ink-black and the room has tightened.
I am disturbed by your absence,
numb as a berry fallen in snow.
I hear the tide of the corn,
the last dull vowels of the dreamers.


Natalie Crick (UK) has poetry published in Interpreters House, Bare Fiction and Poetry Salzburg Review. A Writing Poetry MA student at Newcastle University (taught by Tara Bergin and Jacob Polley), her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize twice.

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