A tipping point of sorts;
dress it as watershed, crossroads or crest
but we hurl ourselves
into the fuck of it:
arse over tit,
cock, mouth and clicket.
That point which snuffs out tenderness
with need – ragged and drooling – stinks out
the den with sweat, juice and focus.
In the coop we take more than we need,
delight in the ease of our carnage;
so do with me.
The pack is hard by,
famished with intent.
Born in County Durham, Martin Malone now lives in Scotland. He has published two poetry collections: The Waiting Hillside (Templar, 2011) and Cur (Shoestring, 2015). An Honorary Research Fellow in Creative Writing at Aberdeen University, he is currently studying for a PhD in poetry at Sheffield University. He edits The Interpreter’s House poetry journal. Find more of his work here.
Image by Chloe Henderson.