by Helen Ivory | Sep 17, 2020 | Featured, Poetry, Prose
Fell at the First Fence Liam limped listlessly into the lift. It was empty. He pressed the button for the seventh floor (Safetyseal Export Sales). There was the usual hiatus, while the mechanism seemed to consider his request. Liam weighed LIFE in...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 16, 2020 | Featured, Poetry, Prose
Removing the Bouquet The Station Team staff room is just behind Lost Property. There’s a doorway, without a door, connecting the two. If someone rings the bell at Lost Property reception when you’re on a tea break you have to make a judgement call...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 15, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Greetings and Salutations “I’ll know that civilisation has completely collapsed when bus drivers stop waving to each other.” – Joanne Limburg Idle thoughts of a bus driver number something-or-other in a series of the infinite: what if the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 14, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
New craft I’m taking delivery of a house that flies. Wish us well, and hope it will respond to our touch. The tyres hum on the tarmac, then no longer as all the senses lift. Pull back the stick. The passing light sets you to navigate....
by Helen Ivory | Sep 13, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
E47 I like that morning is a verb – everything doing and being, hiving at the tangled docking stations of perhaps- a hypothetical, taglog Tense, like channelling the multitasking buzzibees, North Circular – overloading zero hours,...
