Blue Water

The Adirondack Review
When my Mother dragged me out

I wasn’t cold.

My breath was blued

By the light, seeping through

Trees, black as night

With all that nothing in-between,

Mother already grieving

For the other who drowned. 

Tonight the storm broke,

Clouding the colour of

Mother’s necklace with the broken clasp.

The wind whittles your apologies

To blue bone beads

Small enough to swallow. 

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 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.