by Helen Ivory | May 16, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Martyr We’d starve sooner than eat with you, or drink; we’d vomit up, spit out, the bribes you bring and will not slake our thirst or break this fast. The stars, more sensitive than us, will blink; we strain our foolish ears to hear them sing,...
by Helen Ivory | May 15, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
out for a walk first come the trees their frames different in every season today the blinding brightness of new green cutting through the grim skies then come the houses and their doors a purple one a turquoise among the...
by Helen Ivory | May 14, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Sea Bed I cannot sleep. Tonight, the invisible crabs are pinching my nightdress, pouring sand into the folds of the cloth. I can not sleep, they say tonight, there are too many fish in the ocean. They are insisting, clicking and pinching,...
by Helen Ivory | May 13, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
When I Find You In Tesco, Around Half Eleven Tuesday Morning In the canned food section reaching for tinned beans, basket hung from one hand, the other splayed open stretched to the shelf. All of you lifting upwards, feet coming off the acrylic...
by Helen Ivory | May 12, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
It’s Not The End I’m Frightened Of But The Unravelling My cat wobbles from mat to bowl to bed, a wonky sashay from which there’s no recovery. She’s past sunlit sprawls, there’s just skulking, sleeping, the disconsolate matting of fur. Anxieties...
by Helen Ivory | May 11, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Sometimes I Radiate Sometimes I radiate, clouds form in my hair and you breathe from me. I am beech and birch, I am oak ash scrubland, I am waking up. Since I’ve been planted here I’ve been keen to remind you that I come from elsewhere. I don’t...
