by Helen Ivory | Nov 9, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
the hard animal of her body the woman next to me shows me her bones she delves into her bag and pulls them out to show me the strongest and how it was broken you know like a tree she says when they cut it like this and she lifts her hand at the...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 8, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Religious Tack When you turned to God I turned away and in some sort of protest, a double-edged olive branch, I started a collection. Small at first: statues from catholic shrines, rude pewter pilgrims’ badges light-up Madonnas. A dome of the rock...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 7, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Daddy’s Issues It’s Monday and screwed-up bits of paper hit her like rocks and bruise her inside and her wine (he said was his) paints the walls and burns like acid, droplets streaming ravines down her cheeks and a demon screams get out of my...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 6, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Cage the ocean in a room sloshing against the walls a bee in your closed fist feel the fury of her tiny heart a mouth in a cage forced to speak a second language a rope of sand spun on a wide bleak strand press your ear to the cold wet ground hear...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 5, 2021 | Featured, Poetry, Word & Image
Shine After Gillian Lever “What is orange? Why, an orange, Just an orange!” — Christina Rossetti, from Sing-Song (1873) Sweet naranja, common, in-your-face cadmium, chrome, atomic tangerine. # FF7F00: traffic cone of all colours...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 4, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Giblet after Claudia Emerson’s on leaving my body to science Pack the forests away in this dyed night, I won’t need them anymore, hair of thin cigarette smoke, trunk of posed opium. I is a liminal state....
