by Helen Ivory | Feb 2, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Her Mother Quizzes Her About Fruit She says, Yes, I’ve tasted pomegranates and I know what they do. The sense of vertigo: happily dizzy at first, as if you’ve downed a bottle of Shiraz or Merlot. You live by night, dress like a Goth; dark bars and...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 1, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
With Grandad gone I had the back of the car to myself, listed the seven counties Dad drove us through every year, three of us boxed on the leather seats. How did we get there, all in one day? Under the gear stick, tarmac in view, open to puddles...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 21, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Metamorphosis If I can shape-change myself if I can reassemble the rubble of my vision so I can re-see dragonflies, apocalypses, trivia if I can have new taste-buds to suit my re-embodied self and graze on a fresh diet of sweet euphoria and bitter...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 20, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Keeping the Wolf Look at me, look — night eyes find their way without light. I have learnt to listen for the lies of men, to sing my song to the moon so now my heart beats in time with his — we are one. He covers me, keeps me warm, I can come to...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 19, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
How a Plastic Bag in an Elm Tree on Winter St. Learned to Mimic the Moon for Özge Lena It’s growing in what was once the tree with the great green room. It’s singing in yogurt and fluttering like an amorphous pearl of necrosis. It tilts at...
