by Helen Ivory | Oct 15, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
In the Café Did anybody actually (most of all, me) think I could write here? At a trestle table, notebook blotting crumbs (fast hardening to glue), leftovers of a cartoon transfer, vermilion-tipped cactus tramping down the radio. Heat on the...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 14, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Wrapping Up You have buried your mother and put a memorial bench on a high hillside where the wind blows sunsets straight through and it’s always better to wear something warm. A great walker, your mother. Cities, holloways, rugs by cradles. As...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 13, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Ritual You used to wind yourself in curtain turning taut, look down at your feet, pirouette as the fabric hugged you in. I’d idle as you called me from your hide, and draw the other curtain. And unspooling the fabric as I called your name, you’d...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 12, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Breckland Thyme Deadman’s Grave, 2019 With the rabbit-chapped, seeped the sward along: runner-by-runner the undershrub, shored up, stakes its waspish claim, its hereabouts, blotched with drought & the scar the boot left it, rucks the air with...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 11, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
The lesser black-backed gull The gull on the meadow taps her little yellow feet like a shovel-snouted lizard dancing on a floor of lava, a unicyclist balancing on the spot fixated on her singular task. No herring here in the meadow though the sea...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 11, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
the word of the Lord ask this place ask the silver day the steady horizon the self-heal the buttercup the hard fern in the ditch ask the bee and the tormentil this rock smooth as an elephant’s back as you sit and watch the breeze stir the surface...
