by Helen Ivory | Jan 23, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Going South To Morden There’s a doll’s house-sized grief when I read a book and add a character to my list of favourite names, then remember that I’ll never need it now. I’m as eggless as a vegan cooked breakfast, I’m a photocopier out of toner,...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 21, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Peach For Anne Boleyn My velvet skin turns gold to blush. He waits till just before my flesh turns sour, falls, reveals the stone beneath. He rips each layer with his teeth and I can feel him tasting me, licking round the edges so he doesn’t waste...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 20, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Crocodile in the Underground A skein of children in neatly matched pairs, name-tagged, wearing luminous baldrics and carrying shiny identical satchels, tittup side by side behind their class teacher, overseen by a motherly rearguard. A lag-behind...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 19, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Weatherproof In the weeks before the windows arrive from northern Norway, where they really understand triple glazing, the house is porous. Puddles form and evaporate on the flagstones, laundry is trailed straight through casements, clouds are...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 18, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Weather Gods Winter arrived early in 1443. Prickling air laden with ice needles sweeping down the lagoon snow blankets shutting out light. Galleys half-finished abandoned. I fled from noise of cracking timber hulls my eyelashes matted with snow. I...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 17, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Candlemaker’s Office was sparsely filled. The worn brass door knob — a patina countless hands slipping over its surface, polished and discolored by each touch. That oak door — turning my wrist lean into it fighting the rub door against frame...
