Original posting: IS&T editor Charles Christian writes... Henry Wingate, a young and promising writer based in Norwich (England), died last night in a road accident. No further details are available but Wednesday (12th December) was a vile, icy and foggy night. Henry was on the same course as me at UEA and, by a cruel twist, only early this week two of Henry's poems were published in the Not Expecting Fish anthology. He will be missed.

Update: Henry's mother Candida Wingate writes...

Dear Charles
 
I have just read your text about Henry Wingate on the  Ink Sweat and tears web site. I appreciate it was posted late last year, but ...
 
Henry Wingate died at 10.15 in the morning. The sun was shining, but not sufficiently warm to melt the ice that caused the car to skid. But it was the safety barrier erected to prevent cars going into a nearby ditch that killed him. And one of the other passengers in the car, the lovely Kirsten Duffus. Henry's brother, Max and Henry's partner, Nat survived the accident with barely a physical scratch; it was the coroner's verdict that, had it not been for the safety barrier, Henry and Kirsten (Max's partner) would have survived, too.
 
Henry was on his way to his grandfather's funeral. The mood in the car was described by Nat as being 'sombre'.
 
And so I sit here and google my dead son's name, in the hope of finding news of him. On this occasion the luddite in me cannot let pass the suggestion that he died on a vile, icy foggy night.
 
Best wishes,
 
Candida Wingate


Night Came In

Night came in so fast
accompanied by damp cuffs,
tight throats and fatigue.

But our breath was call and response.

Rebounding verse and chorus
from lung to lung.
In strained second hand
streetlight
i saw the pattern at the foot of our bed,
reassembled its components,
and made a threat
to outline our security.


• Henry Wingate