by Helen Ivory | Oct 11, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Cold Kitchen Willow has bred in the cold of our kitchen like some internal coppice; where hot cakes and rolls cooled on racks, we have “Shoppers” and wreaths and little else between us, as she grapples stalks with steel fingers, weaving the bonds...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 10, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Swansea Son He is here in my autumn of age the riverlight through windowpanes, the small-hour laughter, the slim-supple night and moonlight eyes on the history page. I remember his name that giggled the stars when the stage of the world lit its lights...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 9, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Tuesdays she is a cat Sadly it never happens Fridays; there would be more chance of fish. Even in this she is fated to be left wanting. No loved one to present mouse heads to, she crunches the lot herself – calcium beneficial to ageing bones, stalks the...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 8, 2019 | Reviews
I had the luck to watch Maggie Harris launch this collection at Tongue Punch, the Tom Thumb theatre’s monthly poetry night in Margate. The lilting cadences of her not-quite-placeable accent gave a glide and a swoop to her words, sending them soaring...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 7, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Something’s wrong This is how it will start: from the other side of a room you’ll hear your mum talk, loud but so fast you won’t be able to follow and she will see you’re looking so she’ll come over and pull you aside. Listen to me, she will say,...
