by Helen Ivory | Jan 5, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Salt worker, Sečovlje There is a point at which he leans and pauses, and the sun bleaches the edges from the salt pile, the wooden rake, the tracks and carts with their drapery of halite. His face gleams like flowstone, eyes fix upon a line pinning tool...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 4, 2015 | 12 days 2014
Flurry Window panes bear the weight of winter snow. Something unseen leaves ice fingerprints on glass. Inside the debris: torn paper hats novelty shrapnel from crackers screwed-up fists of wrapping paper. Carollers sing of birds and gold rings. You twist the...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 3, 2015 | 12 days 2014
So, This Is Christmas Your mouth’s stuffed with tinsel; it bristles in your throat, just as glitter cakes your eyes. Holly scores your forehead and you lose crowns on the secret flaming sixpence. You’re becoming obese: heart’s wreathed in goose...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 2, 2015 | 12 days 2014
Whatever Happened to Cain? (ii) A woman giving birth in the cow byre, her agony loud in the cold night air. All the bedrooms full to bursting I slept out amongst the camels. During the early hours a fall of snow brought silence, giving the lie of...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 1, 2015 | 12 days 2014
New Year Write to me and tell me how you long for snow, the crisp white blank of new beginnings. I’ve watched you, enjoying the poise of waiting, the rough edge of the cusp of it grinding at our skin ’til we’re raw with it....
