by Helen Ivory | Sep 12, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
DayGlo after Ecclesiasticus 44.1 Let us now praise hi-vis men who gather together round a pothole, filling the gap with their sticky black remedy. Honour the yellow-gilet WPC who knows how to listen, called to a bus stop just in time by a lost...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 11, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Out of Place I lie back, arch my throat, pretend to relax. Contemplate ceiling tiles, and women who do this weekly for pleasure. A basin strangles me. The palm of a hand realigns my head: this is how the ironing board feels when you dance with...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 10, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
It Might Never Happen This is not you, but someone soaked in fake Brut coming at me in a gesture of fake generosity. For goodness sake, I only want a quiet life, it’s no crime not to be a gregarious joiner. Ultra-polite, ultra-wary, I don’t answer...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 9, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Bus Pass Your face was on a bus pass, your hair falling around your face like a curly straw, pressed in a puddle between the Queen’s old face and an Aldi receipt for slippers and chicken. I sit at the stop we used to wait at for the bus to...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 8, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
At Casa Diablo: Portland’s World Infamous Vegan Strip Club I owned a g-string like this, the back connected by a rhinestone butterfly. Starved myself at school to save my dinner money, bought it from Poundland. Prized, peeping above my gym...
by Kate Birch | Sep 7, 2026 | Featured, News, Poetry
Heathrow flight lines I kill lines of ant. Heat arrives in the wrong season. It feels important to know the names of birds under the thrum of a flight corridor. Birds collide with machines, causing damage, risking delays. Who counts bird deaths? A...
