by Helen Ivory | Jun 2, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
We turned a corner Still I notice the white mole above your lip. Shallow we breathe in leather yew leaves. Branches slackened by tomorrow’s dew. Like Cross Street is a steam room and we are clean white shrouding towels shawled around each others’...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 1, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Tag He arrived with a Christian name stitched in place, forwards and backwards down each folded-back end. On the first day the other boys and girls tore it off, taking the surrounding cloth along. No way would they let him keep that tag. They saw...
