by Helen Ivory | Nov 9, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Pillar saint Crammed onto his high stone square, he cranes to see the whole number of eternity as it unwinds its relentless gilded length, trailed by bi-plane cherubim and their seraphic cousins – but he is granted only a raw bald pate horned...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 8, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
The first time we knew you weren’t of us The magic people are coming, you said. You took us outside and pointed at the sky. You were two, long dark lashes like your dad’s that brushed your cheeks when you closed your eyes, your head full of stars...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 7, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Human Across the road stands a woman wearing a child on her heart, her breast- milk stained t-shirt plays peek-a-boo with the infant’s bobbing head, toothless grin scattering in all directions. The baby raises her hands like a conductor...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 6, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Inflammation My mum always says, I get where water wouldn’t. When he drank me, I left myself somewhere sunken living beside a leopard seal. I’m happiest after I’ve gotten wet an ocean, a bath, a puddle, a bottle of Costco’s finest mineral. Without...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 5, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Flying over Desert Mountains behind us, the land spreads out, flat and brittle, like a discarded snakeskin. And yet the snake is down there somewhere. For here and there, the earth twitches, the sand seems to slither. And the landscape is...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 4, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Finistère June 23rd – 24th, 2016 Two table’s worth of no-longer strangers at dusk on a lane of nautical miles, basket of bread, bottles of wine, talk of home and places called home; watching the beams of the continent’s light, see a lava-red...
