by Helen Ivory | Dec 2, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The Games are Over for The Day I find myself a guest, where daily as a child, during summer’s long heat, I peeped in. A small knothole in the wooden fence my vantage point. I saw the affluent limbs of young men and women chase the scudding ball...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 1, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The physics of hippogriffs Horse-eagled lion – it flies because we wish it. One thing I’ve never understood: if, as science has it, possible worlds are infinite are there more imagineable than we can imagine? In one, hippogriffs turn airy cartwheels,...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 30, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Firefly When the world is a firefly only lighting the way with a fat glowing head for that inch at the top of its tip, it keeps the darkness for those wasted days in queues for postage and coffee cups filled up with bubbling syrups. We’d never get to fly...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 29, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
At the Beach for Anne One day that summer you disappeared for hours. As though tired of Sisyphus and the task of filling a moat, you wandered off, your pink, polka-dot swimsuit the perfect camouflage on a beach that looked like a Pollock canvas,...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 28, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Next Best Thing Our parents were astronauts of two extremes. Every vacant lot where we used to play started boiling over, so we grew up (in word only) against the prognosis of a possible plague of perverts arriving to snatch us. We were unlabeled...
