by Helen Ivory | Oct 21, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
A mouthful of stones The sister I don’t have has pockets bulging with silver-foiled chocolate and popping candy, rustling- wrapped strawberry surprises and infinite packets of unopened love hearts. She leaves me the pocket full of stones, ones my...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Cine Reels On screen, Dad was the radical – the introverted pen-and-notepad kind, donkey jacket, beard, betrayed. Another time he played a photographer eyeballing Liverpool – statutes, pigeons, couples out to lunch. Thieves snapped in the act. Our...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 19, 2026 | Featured, Prose
My Story Will Be Perfect Rain like it was Biblical. Sidewalk empty, just me and a happy drunk with the weather-hardened look of a rough sleeper sauntering down the hill from Victoria Station in my direction, shouting out his joy to the world. As...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 18, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Some of This Is True Sun comes out, my body opens all its folding doors, its windows. Sun comes out, my body floats – like feather, cirrus, floats across the grass. Sun comes out. Under the apple tree in the hammock, my body lays me down. Sun...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 17, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Monocle remember when we lived in the shrubs? stewed in a shared room. its stench. our own ripeness torturing lungs scored elastic. remember as well as thieving, together we hauled the laundry of our bodies pretty-with-dumb into a service kitchen...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 16, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Flintinge When my dad was a boy, his parents brought him into the fields. As the whole town picked sugar beets, their breath hugged furrows in pre-dawn darkness. I think of the tug he was taught, the sound of roots wrested from the earth cold in a...
