by Martyn Crucefix | Aug 19, 2025 | Young Poets
I Meet Your Friends at the Gallery Opening and one asks how we met and the answer is Hinge, but I’m not sure you want me saying so. Instead we have a back-and-forth of ums and wells and he drops the question. We circle round displays of plastic fruit, films of the sea...
by Martyn Crucefix | Aug 5, 2025 | Young Poets
Silence Cocaine-tipped tragedy carved with gold- plated powder, sniffing dandruff like the sun cracks for her. Addicted to the lies. Eaten by mice and Trojan skies. Bereft of belief. Delightful yellowing teeth. Fire-torn creature. The child with bruised eyes....
by Martyn Crucefix | Jun 5, 2025 | Young Poets
Pre-American Elegy I dug graves in the first century before America. Most mornings I carried the shovel to the verge of tears. I summoned my friends and the rain cloud, gushing ...
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...
