by Helen Ivory | May 17, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Amphibian Land has dried its eyes, grown hard hands and interrogates each arrival: Where are you from, really from? Are you skinlight, sunhatched, from beyond the serried trees? Answer these. The borders are closing. I wear a different skin,...
by Helen Ivory | May 16, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Losing It after Yehuda Amichai If we think we are right the sun may never set; if we know we are right then beasts could take our place; if we say we are right the towers will always fall; and if, after all after all we’ve thought, known,...
by Helen Ivory | May 15, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Things I did then that I hadn’t done before Asked the neighbours if they wanted anything in my online weekly shop and Bought yeast, flour, long-life milk and 70-per-cent-alcohol hand sanitiser and Cut my own hair, even the bits round the back I...
by Helen Ivory | May 14, 2024 | Featured, Prose
The Queen of Limerick City In the photo-booth Eva gets self conscious, blinking when the flash pops. “It’s not me,” she screams out loud as the photo pops out. It isn’t; is a picture of an older woman with dark, not blond hair. Eva starts to...
by Helen Ivory | May 13, 2024 | Featured, Prose
The Boy and the Beach The boy was lost and he went to the beach on his own. He walked along the beach and he was scared of everything: of himself, of the sand and the sun and sea. He walked with his head down. As an even younger boy he came to the...
