by Helen Ivory | Mar 11, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Labels We met outside Selfridges. I was in high spirits. God Squad Steve had bestowed upon me three Prét A Manger sandwiches, and I’d just bagged myself a premium spot to bed down. The Great British public never bother a man sleeping rough outside a...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 10, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Prayer to St. Emily I feel like a girl When I’m cutting my nails with kitchen scissors. When I take off my high heels And the pain of it brings me to tears. I have mastered the art Of sleeping through sirens And waking up drunk. I have mastered...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 9, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Dunton Bassett We gathered marigolds for homemade wine, collected fresh laid eggs. I fell, you called me Cow-muck Sue. You in a tweed skirt and pink twinset, proud in your narrow larder of cooked hams. We ate Yorkshire pudding with raspberry...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 8, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Remembrance of an Open Wound Whenever we make love, you say it’s like fucking a crash – I bring the bus with me into the bedroom. There’s a lull, like before the fire brigade arrives, flames licking the soles of our feet. Neither of us...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 7, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
7 years good luck. I woke up this morning in an electric teapot all I’ve been dreaming about is missing teeth the gaps feel as lonely as this halfway house that wants a soft water bottle to knock on the door and cuddle till all the lamps go off...
