Nike in the Louvre A flight of steps, stone, bone-coloured, smooth, the stairwell arched and full of light; a half-landing. You. White. Unexpected. The Winged Victory of Samothrace. You balance on a warship’s prow, spread your wings, lift your face to the wind. Your linen robe flutters and snaps, the sea hisses, distant cheers twist like streamers among the cries of gulls. With every pull by the oarsmen brawny battle-bruised sailors stamp, and thump their spears on the wooden deck. In the cold salt air, the ship booms like a war drum. You sing. The sky fills with notes of gold and bronze. Scattered by the wind, they crash and ring together, fall around the ship, splash, sink, or drop to the stone stairs, clang, cartwheel, slide into silence at my feet.
Lindsay Walter has lived in many different places, from Bradford to Bournemouth, Switzerland to Malta, but she was born and brought up in a village in a valley in North Yorkshire where her family had lived for generations. There was a lime tree outside her bedroom window, a beck ran past the garden, owls called from the woods at midnight. Lindsay has been writing poems for four years. She has also written a children’s novel, ‘Ruby and the Moon Children’, and many mini-stories.