by Helen Ivory | Mar 2, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Smoky Mother chain-smoked, leaving lipsticked butts in plastic ashtrays, where they sent up wisps for hours. Now, wildfires out west blow their dark clouds of sadness eastward to muddy the skies over Lake Michigan that used to be blue. I...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 1, 2022 | Reviews
From the Welsh Diaspora Bread without Butter Bara heb Fenyn explores the cultural and emotional heritage of poet Wendy French, raised in England whose mother immigrated from Wales as...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 1, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Mucky fingers A wild daffodil bulb wilts at my feet dug up by a dog. I scrape my fingers into the loam, resettle it in the riverbank. At twilight, two children crouch over a fish – it flaps on the path. There! the boy digs into the wound with his...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 18, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
How, tonight, a Detective Sergeant’s Wife will have her sadness taken from her Leaning back, sipping coffee to keep awake, he’s evaluating witness statements, incident reports of suspected criminal activity, photos of indistinct footprints, and knows...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 17, 2022 | Reviews
I was intrigued when I saw on social media that Martin Figura was regularly staying in a haunted inn in Salisbury during lockdown. I used to live there, taught at the boys’ grammar school and gave birth to our first son at what is now Salisbury District...
