by Helen Ivory | May 2, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Where We Begin Dandelions lose their lion heads weeds grow up to my ribs, petrified vines cling to last year’s bamboo. Three planets in our morning sky, my breath burns. Things we barely understand derelict hauntings, satellite showers and a...
by Helen Ivory | May 1, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Hawthorn The gangrene smell is gone by the time the berries grow, and I am tempted to cut red branches and arrange them in jam jars throughout the house, too full of sour roasting fruit to remember the warning I heeded in May. I start to wear...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 20, 2021 | Featured, Prose
Cutting Through The tea-light flames would dance as if a modernist ballet were being staged in each of the glass dishes from expensive supermarket puddings. He had dotted them around his ground floor flat, on various pieces of unlikely furniture...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 19, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Shadowtime Romney Marsh, Kent, February, 1287 That night a slice of moon rose, mottled red like a scratched wound. The sea was torched, wind-charged. We heard the tide roar twice across the Marsh and knew it was here, the hour of the dead. Hulls...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 18, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
from: Seize i. I fear my poor old soul may be a fixer upper. I strive to find out – it’s that forensic streak I have, I suppose – by too often drinking on an empty stomach. There’s a view afoot, I think, that a proper soul needs proper seasoning....
