POETRY SPOTLIGHT: Natalie Passant

Who are you?
I’m a 22 year old Open University graduate (English Literature and Creative Writing).

Anything else we should know?
My favourite thing when writing at school was finding a word appearing in my head, that seemed to fit what I wanted to express or at least sounded like it would. Then the delight of finding that it did, as if I had some old vocabulary from another life stuck in my head.

Any links?
Facebook

Science Sings A Morning Call

We are only the salt of dreams, you must
lift your feet. Hydrogen glints in your eye,
sending beams, the whole world humming awake.
brandishing a solar circle
on a dark drawn room. Do this.
light the candle
like a swaying moon, to bright.

You can rest there in the mix of elements
the little white lights that are you.
they sing the language of days you haven’t heard before
and you can trail still sleepy ghosts
and see constellations
you paint the colours of rushing noise
transmitting through ossicles to the labyrinth.

Get up. Do it. Stretch your back to the sky
ninety percent of your body is stardust
and
each atom in each cell in each eye
formed in the core of a star.
you burn breath like magician’s smoke
carrying all the planets close. Flowering in Liaoning.
Earth’s early opening eye.

Quinta Essentia/Fifth Essence

Jolts of sound and static I wrap myself in,
Seeing you curved and holding the moon.
Her skin our sliced crystal,
like snowdrops
Flowered of ice,
And ever slipping.

To your metallic gleam,
Sky stained eyes,
I am running low,
And I am collapsing completely.

You tell me space is sixty eight percent dark energy
And like galaxies we are only ever expanding
Whilst splitting apart.

Our atoms are wanderers,
Our palms free for the journeys of stars,
And all you are is spilled out around me,
And all I am is the oldest words
Of a universe hidden in itself.
When you touch my skin and feel it’s electric
We devour eternities.
& it is always then I relearn the true meaning of dawn.

Chronos, Helene or Making Love to Death

He’s got freighted arms
Apocalyptic, though if you slip in, he’s
The shy and swiftness. To the hand over turn
The one who flipped it. Kiss it. Your sweetness is
For the one who missed it

You were never poetry
Just whispers,
Words,
Shape shifters,
The heat is always close,
For the burn always flickers
If my eye touches
our teeth collide and tie stitches

I taste the colour of
Your paintings like liqueur,
And hold to your hand while I, you shiver
Laughing in the darkness while my amber belly
Rises
That rough edge
Like old scripture

We are
Where shapes and faces float
And the pressure teeth are still.
We make death drones
Under tongues,
Freeze flame
Emboss cold light to thrill

Those slip dress kisses
The heel heel touch legs making figures,
Our gleam turns Odysseus

(- place the coin
between my teeth)

When you say I am your girlgun,
I awake
In some other place
Where the Gods bleed and cut,
Our death gives no name
And our colliding together
Brings us ferocious flaming hands
To time reverse.
To the before and end.
Our ever, forever life, and again.

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