by Helen Ivory | Feb 15, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
The Sky Was Falling There was always, of course, the cold – its freezing pretty fingerprints on our side of the pane. While we lay loved beneath the loaded blankets, a new day shivered through the filigree and mum stretched vests before the 2 bar...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 14, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Love Birds Agapornis They married in a chapel of black steel bars, tethered up their feathers to serve as stained glass. One year in and their chirrups are still hymeneal. Humans can’t help but pass by and beam at this pair, bonded for life. All...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 13, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Barbecue here, water does not run. instead it sits obediently in old plastic containers here, where monkey steals avocado when window is open, here where white jesus hangs from the cross and weeps into the food, where father is a tree and mother...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 12, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Ringed Her feet snagged in a cleverly-placed net my sister waits for him to untangle her, to hold her head still between thick fingers, feather ruff ticking in each rapid breath, her eyes black and bright, body eclipsed by the size of him, nothing...
by Kate Birch | Feb 11, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Denizens Mice live in the London Tube. A train leaves and small pieces of sooty black detach themselves from the sooty black walls and forage for crumbs in the rubbish under the rails that are death to man. You can’t see their feet move. They...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 11, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
What Mr. Pig Did After Paula Rego Prince Pig and his First Bride 2006 Mr. Pig modelling his best Sunday suit of farmyard smells, flees from the cook’s cleaver to find himself a sow. This snorty, stinky, porker seeks a succulent female but...
