by Helen Ivory | Sep 9, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Bus Pass Your face was on a bus pass, your hair falling around your face like a curly straw, pressed in a puddle between the Queen’s old face and an Aldi receipt for slippers and chicken. I sit at the stop we used to wait at for the bus to...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 8, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
At Casa Diablo: Portland’s World Infamous Vegan Strip Club I owned a g-string like this, the back connected by a rhinestone butterfly. Starved myself at school to save my dinner money, bought it from Poundland. Prized, peeping above my gym...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 7, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
There’s The Big Things The ash that screams into the night, the lake that dries, the child amongst the rubble, the heat, the fire, the lack of books, the men who’ve clearly lost their minds. And then there’s the small. The glass that smashes on...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 6, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Akademichna Street is bombed-out flats, is the hot-pink Sweet Bakery Café, is straggly new-planted trees, is infantry quaffing cappuccino, is the community hub spilling ragged donations, is fuchsia velvet armchairs, is the balcony with the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 5, 2026 | Featured, Haibun, Tanka, Haiku & Haiga
Through Both The second time something slips from his hand, he does not move right away. He studies the distance between intention and consequence. It looks smaller than it behaves. A nurse passes the doorway without stopping. There is no urgency...
