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by Natalie Crick

When snow has filled the lungs
It takes time to cover the body.

If God were a season,
He would surely be Winter.

Waiting by the black trees,
Thin as ribs,

I offered God my mind,
But he only wanted your body.

I look for your soul,
Pale and baroque,

But I don’t find it.
Only your mouth like a black hole,
Open and vacant.

* * *

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 Interpreters House, Rust and Moth, Ink in Thirds, The Chiron Review and The Penwood 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.

What advice do you have for other poets?

The most important consideration when writing is to write about what you really enjoy in life – your enthusiasm will shine through in words. It is very important to find your own writing style, which can happen naturally or by inspiration from favourite writers. Understand that your writing will always evolve and change is important.