by Helen Ivory | Dec 15, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
In A Black Country It was in the countryside that it came into being, traipsing black mud in the hallway. Was it something you said that invited it in? What could you clamp in your hands to stifle the words clanging against your teeth? You are in...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 14, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Glenrudel Moors Huge blades fall continuously-splicing the air as if it were grass. And she complains that all her dreams have come to nothing and that nothing ever lasts. And the more she talks the more her voice breaks and the more she reduces...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 13, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
The careful arrangement of knives and forks Cutlery and China. Porcelain tea cups. Emptying glass jugs inside the symmetrical room. I’m minding my table manners. Not chewing with my mouth open, Slurping or sloshing. Folding my napkin into...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 12, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Dead Lilies The vase is full of clean shapes, browning like banana skins, liver-spotted in the heat of the day. Petals, thin as bible paper, curl to parched and dog-eared flutes; the dry corpse of a baked starfish skirted with a...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 11, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
New Product Opportunity Some of you may have already heard the latest development – you’re intrigued, concerned, excited, perhaps ready to puke, and believe me that could be something, because the news is, the new thing is, men can get pregnant....
