by Helen Ivory | Oct 9, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
‘He opens his throat for the crow’ (Matthew Hedley Stoppard) Down the chimney at dawn – crow caw. Wings of night retract. What does it wake me to as sky is hearthed by morning and my home warms slow? Its meaning in my gullet, I learn the way of...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 8, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Last thing he does he dithers round the kitchen, lifts his 12-string from her hook, strikes a ringing rasgueado, the echo bouncing back emphatic from the slate flags and off the marble table. He opens up the draught and gives the creaking stove a...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 7, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
How it begins This is how (I like to think) it begins: night-time, August, the Devon cottage, where the darkness is so complete, you might lie in bed, hearing the flit flap skitter of moth wings, fearing their glancing caress against your cheek. Better...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 6, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
When Remembering I’m More Than What Wires into Forgetting When naked with myself, I feel where a right elbow isn’t, then is. I let my left palm guide me through the exhibition of my body. I’ve never been here before, or so it seems, as I photocopy...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 5, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Category C bail violation The night of his arrest I climbed a hill to find a deep cave in which to hide as reality reset, such shifts too frequent now, and rarely for the better, an abject pattern emerging, as when raindrops flow across a waxen...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 4, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Dreamspinning As a kid, Nehisi used to sleep in a treehouse. He could curl right into it from his bedroom window. He would have a hard time falling asleep every time his parents got loud or physical. Whatever his parents lacked in romance as a...
