by IB | Apr 22, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Dance With My Father after Luther I never danced with my father more so beside him, sometimes across in the clock face of summer dance circles. My father walks backwards better than most walk forward— so whenever he sewed his steps into the living room...
by IB | Apr 21, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Jigsaw A family photo, blown up and chopped into a thousand pieces then tipped on the table. We found our eyes first, as they swirled through fragments of black jumper, dark pine trees and an orange sunset sky. The jigsaw became a winter tradition, and...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 20, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Lent As if it wasn’t enough cycling three miles to eight o’clock mass on cold white mornings I stayed in the chapel after the final blessing too early for class in the Colaiste I filled in time around the shadowy stations of the cross the...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 18, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Charm Enough of scorch, scald, sore- and rawness. Sometimes flesh longs for eclipse. Mesh over mesh, compact me with cool plaster. Swaddling clothes. Dry crust. Sarcophagus. A scratch, a bramble rip… a mere sly snick from a page of your...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 16, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
some fall (inspired by a Radio 4 Tweet of the Day) she told me about the still hours spent at the coast watching the east until finally a spume of feather blood and effort rises and approaches blackbirds and fieldfares a gaunt line starving...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 15, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
After the forest fire Because we were four and I only had strength to carry one and knew no other way I carried the one who called out loudest; threatened us most. You two were left to walk behind in the dust of hot, dry summer and the heavy mud...
