by Helen Ivory | Nov 14, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Fashioned I have been made and fashioned out of old drapes and spit and polish, out of daddy’s booth leather and the stuff at the bottom of whiskey glasses after a long evening I have been made from the matter on the bottom of boots mingled...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 13, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Fiscal Policy Grandma’s cat sat on the shelf above the bread and biscuit tin, black and sleek and hollow. On my birthday Gran would pour its innards on the kitchen table. I’d count copper coins into tens, make up bags of pounds to keep. Granddad...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 12, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Nothing Broken Something was always crooked, off-true, I’d cut out across town in rain that never got through, but weighed me down. There was always a glass slipper I couldn’t fill; cold floors beneath stockinged feet, lifeless layers of damp...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 11, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Sacrifice after Genesis 22.2: Then God said, “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you. Let fathers bind their sons to altars, so the wind...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 10, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Demophobia From one microbe in a Petri dish to another let me tell you of the pathology hereabouts. For want of some pre-conceptual rubber, we are rubbing along in diluted pollution, bumcheek by jowl, bumping into each other’s preferred form...
