by Helen Ivory | Feb 6, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Mausoleum A house is a machine for living in.- Le Corbusier I have never climbed a tree, never broken a bone and will never walk on water. I open my little window and worry about possibilities: imprudent intruders of bird or cat, the wind, the...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 5, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
The House Keeps Score The house keeps score in places no one checks any longer. A hairline crack behind the fridge. The soft dip in the hallway floor where grief learned how to pace. We didn’t mark the days after you left. We measured time by...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 4, 2026 | Featured, Prose
No mental image I have a friend who designs cards for friends every Christmas. She carves the pattern into lino, maybe a robin, or a heart shaped a bit like a beetroot. I often feel like a lino tile someone has hollowed – not in a violent...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 3, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Windless Day Night’s white noise is over. Day arises to stillness. Light crouches behind windows, presses through chinks. Dawn’s chorus conceals a speck of silence that casts a shadow stretching vast across the floor. Double-checking in the cereal...
by Sairah Ahsan | Feb 2, 2026 | Featured, Filmpoems
British Columbia, Canada, 2021: We are surviving the vagaries of climate change 1. Heat dome: I’ve had to water my plants two times a day so they don’t die. 2. Five hundred and ninety-five people died as a direct result of extreme heat. 3. Lytton broke...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 2, 2026 | Featured, Flash Fiction, Prose
Unnatural Migration When Mom flew off with the Canada geese you made me promise that we would never leave one another. Ever. I wanted to protect you, even though you were an irritating baby sister who I had to bribe with candy and pop, so I could hang...
