by Helen Ivory | Nov 13, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
My Brother Teaches Me How To Open And Close A Door When you’ve used one handle to open the door, use the other handle to close it. That way the draft from the open window won’t whip it closed and wake everyone up. Even now he still teaches me –...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 12, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Notes after a walk: a tree that had caught its own fallen limb She hadn’t lost a child but if she had she imagined it would be like that. To hear footsteps running up behind you, and to turn around and no one there. To see a crow gliding under the...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 11, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Death of an autistic war child I was born on the sleeves of an immigrant father whispered God into my ear My tears were folded in muslin Stars stayed in drone-moan sky I was a difficult birth early as the Thrush Freckled as the bullet ridden...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 10, 2025 | Featured, Haibun, Tanka, Haiku & Haiga, Poetry
calm river again, his fishing line caught on a tree * raindrops slide down the window death in the family * thick clouds snowflakes dot my dog’s fur * breaking clouds flower petals pasted to my windshield * Christmas dinner with Mom’s new...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 9, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Sarsaparilla Road travels through swamps and reeds, over a black water creek and a narrow bridge, past the swift river with all of its snags and eddies, through the winding gorge of slippery-back slopes, scarps of limestone and galloping gorse to...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 8, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Location of Incident Not in that parking lot, not in that residential area, not in that blue car splashed with mud. Not in that leather backseat — fingernail torn. Not in that stuffy air clouding windows. And not — not in this heart. Yet — not not...
