by Helen Ivory | Jul 21, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
His Nose is so Visible Against the Midnight Blue The moon is a Punch in the sky. A boy is carrying a bruise. And nobody is talking to either of them about ordinary things. She says she cannot trace the shape of the puppet you are seeing in...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 20, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Cunning These things I know, and in knowing, can do; I am able, and my ability like my anatomy is deceitful. Canniness is seeing illusion not sin in the tip of the tongue the curve of the eye; the bodies like mine whipped for their wits. It is...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 19, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
The Stopping Thing after Wanda Coleman You wrestle the car seat’s five-point harness, scrabble for a foothold in the new life. The baby has thin hair and flaky skin like age — this daughter dished up fresh out of my body to gaze clear-eyed at air....
by Helen Ivory | Jul 18, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
We Need to Talk about Shoes The right shoes for work, party, funeral. The right shoes for 2023, with heels not worn down last century, like sister Jo’s shit-brown Mary Janes, passed on by Aunt Jess in pristine pasteboard box. Each clipped step,...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 17, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Grandad keeps pigeons and canaries in the same cage. He has never hurt me. He probably could, so I follow, skipping moss stuffed cracks in the concrete path, the bolt is secured with wire, the padlock hangs uncoupled. Green paint patchworks the...