by Helen Ivory | Aug 12, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Quercus It had always been there, standing against the sky as he left the village, between the field edge and the ditch, a constant presence in every coming and going. Now, curiosity draws him towards it. He shivers as the freshness of morning...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 11, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The Toy I had a toy fire-truck sent to me for Christmas, the usual shiny red with a ladder on top. I dressed a doll as a fireman with a helmet made out of paper, made him rescue the baby stranded in the attic of my doll’s house. I saw the heat...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 10, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Taking the Piss ‘I hear you’re a tough guy’ Eddie said as we stood at the urinals; ‘That’s bullshit’ I said grinning ‘I’m the toughest’ Eddie finished and zipped- up and waited for me, I finished, zipped-up walked over to the basin washed my hands...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 9, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Wolf Spider Hey, wolf spider on the bathtub bottom scaling porcelain, slipping — uncatchable. I want to shower. You dodge my washcloth, you dart away. You idiot. I’m trying to help. Must I spray you to the drain? Bare-ass, crouching I pause, resting my...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 8, 2017 | Reviews
Grant Tabard’s Loneliness is the Machine that Drives the World led me into it with immediate interest – the contents page alone is full of such curiosities such as Snuff of the Disappeared and Beaks. I knew from this that I would want to read more. This...
