by Helen Ivory | Sep 30, 2020 | Featured, Poetry, Prose
First Class ‘It makes a mockery of the whole university!’ said Tam Clark, the Senior Lecturer. He was a bit Old Labour, so this kind of reaction wasn’t unexpected. ‘Oh, no,’ said Jeannie McKay, one of the bright, younger lecturers, ‘it’s an...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 29, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
In a Home When he sits in his chair by the window my father’s head shines in the sun like a hard-boiled egg. There’s even a dip in his skull where someone’s put a spoon to open his cranium. This was the surgeon who broke through to the yolk...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 28, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Anatomy of Boys Boys are cold birds Boys are carrying broken wings Boys are burning oceans Boys are drizzling ashes Boys are not the thorny rose Boys are petals of hibiscus Boys are rainbow Boys are not cloaks for a deluge Boys are glass...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 27, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Walled In After Banksy: Rats, My Wife Hates It When I Work From Home Rats are on the loose climbing up the walls, their agility well-known, ingenuity to the fore. They’re hardly noticeable as you peer into the mirror asking yourself what exists...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 26, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Folly A jagged edge of sunset gold cuts the hillside. Was it folly to build this land a tower, that it might fold its heavenly green over and over, peer through a monocle of window to meet the curious and fanciful? Remember the night we tested its...
