She is born to blossom.
Her painted ghost wanders,
Haunting the meadow
And whispering to trees. 

Pastel darling, 
Petal lips,
There is nothing to be
Afraid of. 

The wraiths that grow
Are the wounds of flowers. 
When you kill, 
It will be beautiful. 

Peony Roses flake away,
Blue buds blooming
Somewhere in the dark,
A feast for moths. 

Natalie Crick, from the UK, has work published in a range of journals and magazines including Rust and Moth, The Chiron Review, Ink in Thirds, Interpreters House and The Penwood Review. This year her poem, 'Sunday School' was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Her first chapbook will be released by Bitterzoet Press this year.