by Helen Ivory | Jun 15, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
All of it It’s thirty-four years since you let go and we were pulled on downstream, a Sunday then too. My brother texts me: remembering happy times with father. Yes, but how to separate them from the rest, and do I want to? You and I have had many...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 14, 2025 | Featured, Flash Fiction
Keep an Eye Out That’s what the father said before he went for a nap, but it wasn’t clear who he was actually talking to as he climbed the stairs. Well, that was stupid of him wasn’t it—leaving a teenage boy, a cat, and a pile of freshly caught...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 13, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Tidy Me Not If when you go to the barber today He asks if you’d like him to ‘tidy up your ears’, Think of all the wildest sprawling vegetation That will never be tidied, or trimmed, by clippers or shears, But keeps on growing in the light of a...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 12, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Too High to Reach The tree will not let go. High up, out of reach, on a branch, no, more a twig, a little wizened, shrunken face leers down. It clings to the tree and the tree clings back. The apple of its eye. Not a healthy embrace, then. More...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 11, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Fork not the kind you eat with but useful to turn the soil root out potatoes or carrots or anything that likes to lurk beneath the earth schlupp sturdy tines slide into soil its wooden handle heats up in your hand, swopping kinetic energy...
