by Helen Ivory | May 17, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Amphibian Land has dried its eyes, grown hard hands and interrogates each arrival: Where are you from, really from? Are you skinlight, sunhatched, from beyond the serried trees? Answer these. The borders are closing. I wear a different skin,...
by Helen Ivory | May 16, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Losing It after Yehuda Amichai If we think we are right the sun may never set; if we know we are right then beasts could take our place; if we say we are right the towers will always fall; and if, after all after all we’ve thought, known,...
by Helen Ivory | May 15, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Things I did then that I hadn’t done before Asked the neighbours if they wanted anything in my online weekly shop and Bought yeast, flour, long-life milk and 70-per-cent-alcohol hand sanitiser and Cut my own hair, even the bits round the back I...
by Helen Ivory | May 14, 2024 | Featured, Prose
The Queen of Limerick City In the photo-booth Eva gets self conscious, blinking when the flash pops. “It’s not me,” she screams out loud as the photo pops out. It isn’t; is a picture of an older woman with dark, not blond hair. Eva starts to...
by Helen Ivory | May 13, 2024 | Featured, Prose
The Boy and the Beach The boy was lost and he went to the beach on his own. He walked along the beach and he was scared of everything: of himself, of the sand and the sun and sea. He walked with his head down. As an even younger boy he came to the...
by Helen Ivory | May 12, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Quiet, Elizabeth Elizabeth is hiding in the cupboard under the sink Small enough to fold between cream cleaner and floor polish Too big to keep elbows away from wire wool Knees away from the slick puddle of the U bend Nose away from the liquitab...
