by Helen Ivory | Feb 4, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Did Philippe Petit come to Heptonstall? At the top of the mill chimney some hundred feet above the stream, level with my eyes and my open mouth is a man in a leotard. It is purple, gleaming neon against lichen on stones to which he clings, brighter even than...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 3, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Witches Brooms and Winter Roses This year is nearly over. We walk arm in arm, hear the sound of sirens incessant background dirge. On our street, three cases. One next door, one across the way. Another, three doors down. No dead so far. Stubborn...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 2, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Collation It’s Izabelle’s funeral collation so we’re driving into Gaillac wearing proper clothes. I’m driving, you are listening to some mad YouTuber who claims that water has memory because if you say nice things to one tub of water and nasty...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 1, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
A Willow-Tree in Hiroshima Softly & impossibly, her roots still beckon growth. It is a slow hope she is drawing. Their ends were swift – echoes in the floorboards. I am reliving it, since I am solitary. A thrawning suffocation grabs the...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 31, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Wave We have learned to wave distantly through glowing windows glimpsing a well-placed bookcase or houseplant imagining the corners of a room their piled-up flotsam we have learned not to ask what happens at the watershed we observe flows ...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 30, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
The Glow I recognise the tingle at my nape my face melts, oxters darken, make-up slides, instantly wet through layers meant to cope. Tissues, useless until the wave subsides, my bright red fan announces to the place the hormone flush that’s difficult to...
