by Helen Ivory | Feb 9, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
This Sea Is Ours We enter in darkness. Naked feet rush over cold pebbles, phone-torches light our pathway to the sea. We shed layers of hoodies, pyjamas, socks and trainers. Seafoam slashes cold against our knees. We swim further into night,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 8, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
You Know What 9am Feels Like, Right? Like, If Your Watch & All Clocks—Suddenly Worldwide—Disappeared, You’d Still Know What 9am Feels Like, Right? The first wristwatch was first worn in 1810, despite what old turn-it-up Flintstones episodes...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 6, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Dusk Was Yesterday Alone, I drive along the midnight, winter road. My left hand at the 12 o’clock position of the steering wheel. And I coast. I let out the day’s long breath, which started out today as a sigh. Somewhere off in the distance,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 5, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Ode to Remission My mother is here, and might not have been, so I hold things tighter: the small-getting-smaller of her running with my daughter down the beach, every conch and whelk they gather, the scar tissue just peeking out of her swimsuit,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 4, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Glove My stubby maroon glove spent a chill night on the velvet ridge of Clent Hills tangled in summer-dried grasses and snapped seed heads, pecked at sniffed at and tumbled among crusty rabbit droppings. Cuff sheltering tucked-in snails and slugs,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 3, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Bin Day It’s Wednesday and / again / I’m laying pages of newspaper on the kitchen table / tipping up the food waste bin / scattering teabags and potato peelings and orange pith in a pile / and wrapping it up like chips from the chippy / so the...
