Ivy Page







Cutting the Cord


It’s like that.  Moving

from here to there.

Your faces are the shape

of my palm-print, familiar.


Your names roll off my tongue

like water from the roof.  I want

to soak in the distillation that each of you have become.


But you’re the womb, and I am being born

away by the path.  As if it never hit

my face before, I will see a new sunrise

and the conversations I had with you —

all those years — will filter through

sunlight, landing warm on me.




A Collection of Hours


Time moves.

The speed of which

is measured.


It isn’t supposed

to change.

It doesn’t.


The hour spent hitting the snooze button

is shorter.





Family Tradition


My mother danced to nothing,

she had her fingers so deep

in the earth she was rooted.


Great gardener of color

wherever we lived.

The music of my father

inspired her to sing,

but she got the words wrong

to confuse him.


I too sing the wrong words

because I never learned

the right ones, but this is what folk music

is about, my mother says.


My husband frowns and my father

laughs as my children join in.








Ivy Page is a writer that lives in a beautiful and fierce countryside, New Hampshire, USA. Her work has been published in in Boston Literary Magazine, Night Train, New Plains Review, Eleven Eleven, Poetry Quarterly, among others. It has been anthologized internationally, and two full length collections have been published by Salmon Poetry of Ireland: Any Other Branch, 2013 and Elemental, 2016.


Page also started OVS Magazine that met with much success for five years, until Chronic Neurological Lyme took away her energy, her job as a college professor. She is now finding a new way to write and live her life with a disabling, incurable illness, and not lose her mind.



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