by Helen Ivory | Apr 26, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Kiln weren’t my idea of oven, more like top loader weshing machine, but were all art college ‘ad. inside: an asbestos lined cylinder, seven shelves, each level ‘eld by a joggle, pizza-esque. my work were first to go in: anthers...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 25, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Without Goodbyes (for Karen) An eternal white corridor; my mother retreating, leaving me with a too-large bed with medical-mint bed-spread. She blurs to a Lowry figure. The corridor cuts and incises then magnifies her stiletto sounds to a music I...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 24, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
foolish man “ich bin zufrieden,” i murmured you looked at me as if i had lost my mind and asked me, “you are what?” “happy. it means i am happy.” mostly i ignore braggarts, but when you insisted your sister...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 23, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
A Brief Analysis of Soup and Soup Making I invite you to consider this pot of broth. Neither meal nor beverage, it side-steps categorization with a gentle, but jaunty slop. Mistress of disguises, it can sometimes be stew, chilli, gravy. Good soup is not...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 22, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Knife I’d like a knife, small enough to pocket. If you could find a pretty one I’d appreciate it. Shallowness I prize most of all. Sorry if this is dark. I’m not good at being profound, but I’m quite good at silence and mood-killing. I suppose...
