by Helen Ivory | Nov 29, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Conversation with the Doctor You hold my breath before me, pickled in a jar, it looks like veins when held up to the light; this could be life, this could be the future of reproduction. You bring me back, back in the room, back to tweezers, and...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 28, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Stork A huge white question mark stalks a field outside Bassersdorf. Black mourning tips folded back, a softly red bill probes the earth. The legendary bringer of babies, your blessed image hangs above those more fortunate doors. Ours creaked...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 26, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
At the State Fair I wander. Caloric food stops me. Sometimes there’s good music. This year a man in a black shirt plays a country guitar in front of a shining ferris wheel. He sings about love, it’s endless, which I guess makes it real. Even the...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 25, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Signs My dad when driving liked to read out road signs, shop signs or the shouty, foot-high letters on advertising boards. ASHBOCKING. THREE MILES. GOLF SALE. THE BEST A MAN CAN GET. Recently I’ve started doing this myself. My children find it...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 24, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Found At the end of a sunny parquet corridor: the shock of mud dumped on the pristine, polished floor. Closer in, vision adjusts; the lump seems like a salt-rasp sob that clots the building’s throat. Dread-dense as a sea mine, heavy as a bell cut...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 23, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Grace Trailing the outer path of Regent’s Park like a half-lit ghost grieving the foetus I’ve shed I crawl under the skirts of a pink rhododendron. I enter a womb of writhing branches, humming blooms, pink filtering light. A bee homes in on my...
