by Helen Ivory | Nov 18, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Cat Swarm This is what happens when she sits alone in her dining room, eating smoked trout and canned sardines. Twelve cats who are molting arrive as a sweet surprise. They smell the flavor and here they are. Now there’s cat fur everywhere. It...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 17, 2025 | Featured, Haibun, Tanka, Haiku & Haiga, Poetry
* the sound of raindrops in our silence of farewell eviction night * 360 degrees of a lighthouse searchlight … this darkness (in me) * this fresh morning so much like the others … yet starlings shape-shift Chen-ou Liu is...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 15, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
One For The Crow A Tuesday morning in November out on the street taking in the bins. As a flight of crows flashed past the street lights went out. My neighbour, very good at counting, said it was a coincidence, but it looked as if the crows put...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 14, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Becoming Hedgehog (i) Noises are louder now: the kesh of tyres on tarmac slicked with leaves. Rain’s drumming thunder. My other self pulls at me, pricks from inside. Limbs compress, ribs tighten around starved lungs. I furl; I shrink, a leaf about...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 13, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
My Brother Teaches Me How To Open And Close A Door When you’ve used one handle to open the door, use the other handle to close it. That way the draft from the open window won’t whip it closed and wake everyone up. Even now he still teaches me –...
