by Helen Ivory | May 8, 2021 | News, Poetry
Please join us on zoom for live readings from Tim Liardet, Jennifer Militello and Jenny Pagdin on Sunday 9th May at 4pm GMT This is part of our monthly ‘Live from the Butchery’ series, hosted by Helen Ivory and Martin Figura from their home (an old...
by Helen Ivory | May 8, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
clutch you catch her in the night a pale moon asking you her name in your sleep your eyes wander and she pinches you she cleanses old fires no need for a past to speak of she’s got some lipstick on her tooth or is that your blood? it’s...
by Helen Ivory | May 7, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Eight days The kneewoman comes to lift him from the safety of his sac into the coffin we made to keep his sleeping form. I nurse him two days after the milk comes in. A week later I walk in gannet shoes, feet silenced by their leather, his jaw...
by Helen Ivory | May 6, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Rosemary Tonks Returns Home from a Health Hydro She knows the house has been alone, fires unlit, switches unclicked, fuck you, she spits, I had to pay for company. Thinks of it as stage-left, hangs her mackintosh on the walnut stand Mother hated,...
by Helen Ivory | May 5, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
And I Don’t Know Why Somehow I’ve ended up here and I don’t know why I’ve ended up here but I’ve ended up here. Somehow I met you and I know how that was meeting you. I crossed the border that night you kissed me. And somehow I’ve ended up here....
by Helen Ivory | May 4, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Moon mother The moon has my mother’s face and the smile she gave when I swam into her arms one February night. She speaks my name cheerfully down the phone. No hint of the time passed since we last spoke. I will try not to count the days since my...