by Helen Ivory | Jan 10, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Summer in the 1990s Sunset. Mid-July with a cloudless blue sky electric pink and flared with gold The window frame of the caravan digs into my elbows I lean out further My best friend squashed against me Side by side Watching our dads sitting in...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 9, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Mother and Daughter (after the 2013 photograph by Gregory Crewdson) When your mother walks barefoot to your house, you welcome her, the February morning, pine-scented freeze that follows like a phantom through the door. A single set of tracks print snow into...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 8, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Post-operative It would be a while before he touched alcohol or felt in any way frisky, he said. The stitches were too new. She understood. He asked her to look under the dressing. There was a little oozing from his new zip. It was bloodless....
by Helen Ivory | Jan 7, 2021 | Featured, Prose
DIY with Biscuits The sound of the drill was not enough to completely drown out his voice. ‘Sure that’s in the right place?’ Gerry asked. I focussed on the screw disappearing into the wall. ‘Mary? You hear me? You sure that’s not too low?’ ‘Yes, Gerry.’...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 6, 2021 | Featured, Poetry
Aposiopesis I see you waving from behind the fence I am trying it hurts clouds wait and move over fields swallows distracted by the burr of an aero plane resting elbows the wrinkled hands of the mower blather into action the company though assorted shows care...
