by Helen Ivory | Oct 2, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
ode to pelvic pain outside a herd of elephants thunder past you are number 7 in the queue you swallow a pill that numb the nerves that are sparking like someone stuck their hand in the toaster the hold music is Sade singing, while being strangled...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 1, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
After Surgery Through the kitchen window, an Acer pseudoplatanus regrowing its Brilliantissimum. We both face the bite of a late spring morning: tree, bold as brass – and me? Still here somewhere under protective layers. There’s hope in this...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 28, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
Last Winter on the Farm (Inspired by David Dodd Lee) Waxwings, I learned later they were called, the birds that wintered in the cedars. All day long they’d dart in and out of the huge tree that hung like a waterfall over our verandah in the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 22, 2023 | Featured, Prose
Two Halves You won’t want to take the locket, but your twin sister Agnes will insist, pressing it into your hand as she stands on the doorstep of your cottage, unwilling to enter. You’re supposed to take turns looking after it, changing each...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 21, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
from After (John Ashbery, Worsening Situation) As one broken upon a wheel, or dropped from a great height upon jagged rocks, I have watched this murmuration, this perturbation, and have felt my limbs grow numb, however great my desire for flight. Will...
