by Martyn Crucefix | May 22, 2025 | Young Poets
Manicure One week after my rape I decide to get my nails done for the first time. Him and I divided by cloudy Perspex, a small hole in the bottom for our hands to slip through. We talk in hands, pointing to ballerina shape, shade 317, a blushing pink from a wheel of...
by Martyn Crucefix | May 7, 2025 | Young Poets
Some bioluminescence “ale-brown algae / that exclusively blushed / luminescent blue” — Isabel Galleymore, ‘Luminescent’ here, blue may also mean toxic, and means a defence mechanism for when a predator nears—as if the many whips attached weren’t enough...
by Martyn Crucefix | Mar 17, 2025 | Young Poets
Pynchon Paranoia & Prose (Comp) As I watch the rainbow disappear through four collapsing windows The apartments fold algorithmically Apocalyptic origami Looking straight up at the sky Like a period on paper A doll gazing from her bedroom A die spinning on its nose...
by Martyn Crucefix | Mar 1, 2025 | Young Poets
Moving On The last plate broke today. It was nothing special. Cheap, temporary junk that fills a flat, a home, a life. I’ve always had a fear of losing things before their time. I kept every card she wrote even as her handwriting deteriorated and she could no longer...
by Martyn Crucefix | Feb 14, 2025 | Young Poets
love poem you want a love poem? (“yeah,” you say, confidently).okay, I’ll give you a love poem.I love –(wind crackles in the trees, the light bulbs flicker,paint continues its residence under my fingernails.time stops, but only for a second.)– well actually, the point...
