Marcus Clayton
ISBN: 978-1-949099-13-3
25 pages


"From the world-wise imperative of its title to its final image of a 747 slicing the sky, Marcus Clayton's Nurture the Open Wounds excavates familial dramas with vivid, particular images that display the 's keen sense of sound: "the sound of sirens break / the silence like a bone." The speaker's father stalks this text and sticks to its ribs, even in poems where he isn't mentioned. Minus the nihilism and cynicism, Nurture the Open Wounds grants credence to Philip Larkin's famous first line from "This Be The Verse." Clayton's great accomplishment here lies in his speaker's ability to hear the threat of the sirens while also appreciating their song."

— Douglas Manuel

We never saw the jets as animals blossomed from clouds — shade from a screaming sun. The walls around our eyes cut off power lines — mute buzzes cloaked by swaying shrubs. We hid from wheels and children's shoes that trample, we defended our ears like bears that nurse their cubs. Rusted swing sets screech under baby bottoms, and joggers kick up playground sand — we heard nothing. We wanted our gray spotted hands to toss seeds into moss where duck feathers swirl like yogurt caught by a cone. The mother's grass grew beneath our sleep, caressed our small clothes, our small skin, our small quiet we earned closing our eyes to the pavement circling us like hawks. We used to watch the skies now I squint when I try to catch the animals. Smog races into my mouth when I try to speak to you, and my hands are so big cupped over my ears — the world grew so much louder with you inside the grass.