portion of the artwork for Natalie Crick's poem

Night Sky
Natalie Crick

Night sky, bitten plum
Above mortals, begins
The long darkening watch.

Near trees, crows ink the yard,
Linger. Their silence
More stunning than sound.

Touch gently
Our sleep, night sky.
Grow, dark sea, grow.



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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 49 | Spring/Summer 2017