by Helen Ivory | Apr 6, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Ossein of Magpie In the space between my ribs there is song, for the magpie that put it there is trapped in my chest of needles. Once swallowed all I could see of it was a zoetrope of tangerines. The terrified thing shook all night long, I...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 5, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
When You Thought I was Dying If a candle’s lit inside this bowl the patterns on its belly grow — those painted leaves, that silver lily that looks from here like a cabbage rose. (Cabbage roses bloomed on the papered walls of our first flat....
by Helen Ivory | Apr 4, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
One More Frost In this final winter, home to a vacant house in mourning style, with ice on the sale sign. unlit, but heated by neighbourly care, still it is voiceless. A card for Christmas, fallen on the floor, postmark from Pennsville: a cousin,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 3, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Time Twist Time slips; it twists together. The staircase now – Tom, frozen with his school-bag. The staircase then – Esther, stopped mid-step, her slim white foot in a dancing slipper, ball gown brushing banisters. A moment when they see between,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 2, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
From Gabriel’s Hounds (a work in progress) The soft-looking grey glove-skin of the hands Her hands on the bedsheet. The bedsheet folded down over the quilt and the hands resting neatly on the sheet, as if they had been folded down as well. More...
