by Helen Ivory | Nov 16, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
I take a torch to 4am climb the stairs so I can be closer to the moon or Venus, something private, divine Moisture on the roof out of nowhere suggests autumn is creeping in like the possum whose red eyes in the beam are jewels of curiosity or fear...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 15, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Harlan & Siv Euglena Harlan presides at our Church of Gullibility in the Vale, accused of murdering his younger self. Prosecutor Marat Siv arrays testimony, exhibits, arguments against the Judge-Who-Rules-at-Pulpit. During a recess, Siv...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 14, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Auntie Joyce I knew your face when I saw you from the backseat window in the hospital car park where you stood talking to my dad, so I must have seen you before then. Perhaps at your son’s wedding, for you had to be there. I remembered you also...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 13, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Norwegian Trees Still Bear Evidence of a WWII German Battleship According to their research, one tree sampled saw no new growth for nine years after 1945. – The Smithsonian Imagine a ship pulls up into your fjord and releases a cloud...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 12, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Coping Because I had a vivid dream I could telephone you in Heaven, somewhere my brain believes it’s true; delusion is a kind of redemption. My conscious mind habituated to our almost-daily conversation, my unconscious has found a line to sustain...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 11, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
My Swallows after Ann Gray I talk to the swallows as they dip and dive wonder if they return because of me. I tell them the cactuses are dying, that I’m the wild boar rooting around for grubs, that I don’t sleep much these days. I tell...
