Fruit By Candlelight By Natalie Crick

Fruit By Candlelight

The candle snuffed out, leaving
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

The corpse candles reveal
Their death walks.

By Natalie Crick


Natalie Crick, from the UK, has found delight in writing all of her life and first began writing when she was a very young girl. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in a range of journals and magazines including Interpreters House, The Chiron Review, Rust and Moth, Ink in Thirds 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.

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