by Helen Ivory | May 21, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Deeper Than After Maggie Nelson’s Bluets There is the green that birthed all pine trees. I had a green turtle necklace just like that once, I lost it, not in a pocket, not under my bed, not down a drain, just lost. The shell wasn’t turquoise not...
by Helen Ivory | May 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
After Gaston Bachelard and Sabrina Carpenter We were the housing and the housed, meaning nothing except that we were always occupied, or to put it simply never out. After a while we walked like we were on stilts made from string and sweetcorn...
by Helen Ivory | May 19, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
May long weekend Coming home to days of heat trapped beyond the door, to time skewed by time away, the house bigger and smaller than before. As if magnified, a hornet lies dead by the baffling window ridiculously detailed and weightless in the...
by Helen Ivory | May 18, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Motherly misery I don’t know why I look to my mother for her shadow never stays. promises are whispered soft as fur, then shed. I grow between hunger and shame, guilty for wanting warmth, from her body. she is not cruel. only miserable. the...
by Helen Ivory | May 17, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Patterned with cows I want to tell my mother, I made a successful loaf in the bread machine you didn’t know you were leaving me which has sat untouched on the benchtop since you went as Dad sat untouched on the couch I used your stick mixer, too I made...
by Helen Ivory | May 16, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
How to become two-dimensional Die. You’re soon reduced to a photograph. Lugubrious Co-op undertakers will zip you in a bag and keep you cold, until you’re moved care of Michael, with curly grey locks like Frodo, who has dropped too much acid in...
