by Martyn Crucefix | Jan 20, 2025 | Young Poets
depth charge and surfacing home has become like a submarine and I know you’re waiting for an answer, but I can’t stop obsessing over how these four walls might be the only thing between me and fifty fathoms of crushing – you’ll tell me to breathe, help me...
by Martyn Crucefix | Jan 3, 2025 | Young Poets
Dog Days Your lips make a clicking sound as you pull them across your teeth. You tune your flesh towards visitation: your joints labour over their arrangement; a plane of light swells shoulders, surface for eating. Strung out across several summers, we suffer for our...
by Martyn Crucefix | Dec 20, 2024 | Young Poets
Burial We buried his guns in the garden a year after he’d been burnt in his best jumper. Rifles and a double-eyed shotgun, sawn barrel, heavy cartridge, no licence. A stock that lay cold against the heat of his cheek, felt the misting of his breath. A trigger that...
by Martyn Crucefix | Dec 11, 2024 | Young Poets
Feast One day, this dog ripped into my flesh and got so deep we both saw bone and that excited him and surprised me as I was also excited. While he gnawed away, I wondered, what kept him going? he’d already gotten what he wanted… what else could he be after? And as if...
by Martyn Crucefix | Nov 18, 2024 | Young Poets
The Law of Salvage flotsam. what i think of first isbuoyancy.my awe whenthe whole surface of the sea isjostling with driftwood. it iswhat my father calls BRACKISH WATER. although actuallythat is notwhat the word means BRACKISH really meansa salinity between sea and...