Loan us night’s coat while you bathe us maroon, we’re struck.

Flash us the swag from under your belt, we’re struck.

We reached for the hem of your frail sky

nicking out slivers with silver like we owned you. Were we dumbstruck?

Alienated, but I’m still chasing – a mariner to Hellas Basin –

all that sulphur is just waiting for a match: struck.

Dreams of your face light my blackest hour –

and with the might of a galaxy ghosted, I’m starstruck.

On earth we saw you from the beds in our room

but were too-soon jilted for the sun. And fancied luck-struck.

Nicky Kippax

Nicky is currently completing a Masters in Creative Writing at York St John University and she is a student mentor in creative writing classes for Converge – the university’s outreach programme for people recovering from mental health difficulties. 

Last year she was shortlisted for the Bridport Prize for poetry, the Gingko Eco Poetry Prize and her flash stories were shortlisted for the Reflex Fiction prize. She also won the York Festival of Ideas short story competition, in partnership with the University of York. 

She lives in York, has two young children and runs a sourdough bakery with her partner.