by Martyn Crucefix | Sep 29, 2025 | Young Poets
Memoria Pappy bundles me into Coat scarf hat gloves winter boots Mummy doesn’t like me wearing those Pappy’s good lady friend got me them All white and brown, I’m a plump Christmas pudding Ready for eating A steaming dumpling An egg on legs! Come on come on Pappy says...
by Martyn Crucefix | Sep 5, 2025 | Young Poets
:this is not a poem it’s a warning label — there is no title because titles are for books that finish — the ceiling coughs again // someone’s frying onions downstairs / or burning memory — hard to tell these days (i asked my mother when she stopped praying: she said...
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...
