by Helen Ivory | Apr 8, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Your artificial light gave out Your garden has no security, just the electronic sensor that whispers in husky unpredictable clicks that accompany the moths feeding in the darkness. To your mind, to my mind the world of the moths will be...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 7, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Neighbourhood News Hi, I’m Bill. I’ve just moved in to that little house on New Street (you know the one, it’s been covered in graffiti for God knows how long). I’ve got six dogs and a dead rabbit which I keep in the fridge as well as lots of...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 6, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Imagining myself as a bitter, old woman Here I am as old as you said I would grow altogether alone drinking tea curled up with a gossip of stars and the milky thaw of the moon – the thrum of the air still thrums in me as the flowers fold in...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 5, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Afflictions I swallow the seams of the moon – they have always riddled me, if I lay on a stage of feathers I would still feel the underneath of dark atoms, afflictions you pull from the bridge only when god has given you to the water....
by Helen Ivory | Apr 4, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Shadows night blinds the forest tracks pins itself to pine needles antennae frisk its long coat and small foxes learn their trade each leaf sleeps ponds close their one eye woods are busy in their dark diaries as all the shadows unbuckle slip...