by Helen Ivory | Feb 4, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Municipal Pool That particular, chemical clarity, sun into blue, ripples on the ceiling. Rare days when water rests between the ropes, unbroken and the lifeguard dreams by the open door. You slip in then, quiet, smooth – thinking otter,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 3, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Bulk I suppose this beautiful bright dawn is the sky trying to offset the wild gusts of last night like a rescue mission. We still don’t get what we thought we’d got. I suppose our serial wrangling to solve the weather we’ve caused is even more...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 2, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Her Mother Quizzes Her About Fruit She says, Yes, I’ve tasted pomegranates and I know what they do. The sense of vertigo: happily dizzy at first, as if you’ve downed a bottle of Shiraz or Merlot. You live by night, dress like a Goth; dark bars and...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 1, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
With Grandad gone I had the back of the car to myself, listed the seven counties Dad drove us through every year, three of us boxed on the leather seats. How did we get there, all in one day? Under the gear stick, tarmac in view, open to puddles...
by Kayleigh Jayshree | Jan 31, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Father wound My sister’s father wound is the flush cut on the bark where she lost her foothold and fell, the trunk burning red between her thighs all the way down the tree to the ground. It happened in the fatherland where the sky is a rock of shale grey covered with...
by Kayleigh Jayshree | Jan 30, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Waiting Room, Ward 5b Half five. The sky thickens to darkness through the grime on the tall windows, the claw marks of rain. Someone whistles in the corridor. The drinks machine hums ceaselessly. The TV bracket is an empty gibbet, a bookcase has only a...
