by Helen Ivory | Aug 7, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
A Gift Morning’s cusp of summer in a cobalt breach the sun is a white coin lifted from the sea. Walking, going somewhere from old rifts, like a calliope, spun like fists on a hurricane stare, glassy arraignment loops a centred pain. (This happens...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 6, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Genetics Yes, you gave us your elegant hands and capricious smile, but as I make my way to the chiropodist this morning, it’s your feet I’m thinking of and how in your later years they gave you constant trouble. I was still too young for our...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 5, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Simulacrum after Jean Baudrillard Pursue the facsimile of the attendance sign; here you must join the line. People in uniform will inform you where to stand, how to sit, when to scream how to follow the rules. When you pass this initial test, you...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 4, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Saving Face Corvus carone, carone, the carrion crow Emerge, from way beyond the pale, one day, clenched feet an amulet about your wrist. You’re eight, like us, you say, toy wilderness we occupy, a monster on your fist, outlandish night. No tinge...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 3, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
Elephantine carved from the tusk of my grandmother I am learning how to remember we follow the old paths traced through the bush that belongs and yet does not belong to us where we are born is where we pass through if I could, I would pull down...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 2, 2025 | Featured, Poetry
My dad is thinking geometrically, eyes closed; he waves his arms to describe how he can transform a circle into a square. Did you know a line has only one dimension? That means it takes up no space. Perhaps trigonometry can save us. You need two...
