by Helen Ivory | Mar 5, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Out of office auto-response desks morph into surplus femurs stalking unlit rooms chairs are pelvises minus a sense of swing walls creep further apart each day carpet oceans lap workstations nobody needs to raise a voice now on the executive...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 4, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Once upon a time there was a word that was sick of its meaning the way it was said and said like a wet cloth carelessly slapping a table. What a tearjerker of a word it was. It barely knew what it meant anymore like it had collapsed from...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 3, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Thread It was gold thread curled tight around a possessive spindle. It was waiting to unspool itself to bind and shape this to that. It had never been in a labyrinth and was not afraid of the dark. Colin Pink has published two...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 2, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Smoky Mother chain-smoked, leaving lipsticked butts in plastic ashtrays, where they sent up wisps for hours. Now, wildfires out west blow their dark clouds of sadness eastward to muddy the skies over Lake Michigan that used to be blue. I...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 1, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Mucky fingers A wild daffodil bulb wilts at my feet dug up by a dog. I scrape my fingers into the loam, resettle it in the riverbank. At twilight, two children crouch over a fish – it flaps on the path. There! the boy digs into the wound with his...
by Leah Jun Oh | Feb 28, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Double Life In the Christmas vacation I work two jobs: an early shift at the sorting office; a late shift at a restaurant. In my daybreak life I become an expert on London postcodes. At night I learn to balance things on my wrists – three plates,...
