by Helen Ivory | Sep 12, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
The Speed of the Earth He sees a stainless-steel spoon burned off at the base, a bunch of wild flowers dropped, a builder’s padded glove plastered flat, a car slumped in black ashes and glass. He imagines his classmates singing out the bargain...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 11, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Homunculus Explaining to my little man about proportion, he responds with feeling: a picture of daddy with thousands of fingers. Sensory and motor cortex guiding the felt-tip pen, big tongue lolling as he draws. A little man with huge hands,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 10, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
What is this, a family outing? Yes, dad, that’s exactly what this is, I want to say to him as I open the car door, climb into the front seat, remembering those marvellous trips to the tip at Loscoe. My brother, aged nine, threading himself through...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 9, 2024 | Poetry
Lines He lived next to the funeral home with his three daughters. A cherry picker beeps in the distance. I cannot see it, but I know the light is red. Who brings roses to a funeral? Rain rolls down window glass, but not here, only somewhere in the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 8, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
The Last Person on Earth I don’t know why I went, I’d already heard about the time a colleague’s husband turned up at the staff barbecue and punched him. We met at The Prince of Wales but he refused to go in because a sixth former was working at...
