by Helen Ivory | Jan 15, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Workshop exercise For Kate Foley The river twinkles on my right. I’m walking briskly past a pair of disused shipyards whose noisy histories have been condensed to fit on plaques as neat as boiler-plates. The river’s banks are fidgety with ripples...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 14, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Last Carthusian The large metal bell with which I call myself to prayer is wanted by a museum. I sing in an affected accent the responses to the psalms but the jackdaws which laugh at me from the roof are not fooled. In a refectory which is...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 13, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Heartland I am growing grass inside my ribs; fluted blades twisting their leading edge in meadows of flesh. There are fields of this. Where the lark has left, the wind gusts through – I have become its hollow short-cut and you are corridors...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 12, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Realisation about a friend slowly and deliberately you draw information out of me the way my son eats a strawberry holding firmly onto the green stem sucking it down to the pulp Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana lived in Japan for 10...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 11, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Egg Inside, it’s containment: a smooth shell curving away into itself, taut around a thin membrane which closes on its viscous, one-celled strength; and it’s a silent circling of mass, unused to air, unexposed to the risk of strange heats, to the...
