by Helen Ivory | Sep 13, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
The Poem of the Sock after Martin Stannard The poem of the mask disguises meaning. The poem of the diet lost seven words. The poem of the snowman melted. The poem of the invisible man . The poem of the ventilator needs to...
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...
