by Helen Ivory | Jul 5, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
The Biology Department Funny how Year 8 is doing bones now, of all the weeks. In the prep room we strip flesh off chicken wings, steep the bones in acid til they bend like rubber, and the girls shriek. Cardboard femur and tibia jointed with split...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 4, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Memento Vivere We lived here once. The rain we heard fell everywhere. Silence except the wind across the ground. It’s best to keep quiet. Words are like dead seeds, they vanish when they’re said. * New Year’s Eve without stars or...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 3, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Misdiagnosis There’s something wrong with my head it’s too tight, it’s a round black shape on the pavement where the grand piano fell six storeys and flattened my skull There’s something wrong with the sky it’s the colour of a bruise and...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 2, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Something started you to wake, leaving sockprints in the parquet, there was only the dark, until a hair sliver of light softly glowed on your feet asleep. Behind the closed door, he was there, your father, smoking quietly with himself...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 29, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Black Cherry Ice Cream We ate it leaning against the rail above the harbour – black cherry, melting down the cone faster than we could catch it. And you laughed, mouth red, sunlight flaring in your lashes. I watched the boats move below us...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 27, 2026 | Featured, Poetry, Uncategorized
How to get here Among the joys of love was when we got our first apartment on a boulevard above the trams and tree-tops and the wires that cut the street like tangram puzzles and our friends would come with olives and cheap wine they found the...
