by Helen Ivory | Nov 30, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Back of the Bus I’m two seats away from the back of the bus. I’m only here because there’s no places at the front. And I’m terrified of hearing anyone say my name. For the last hour of this journey I’ve been pretending to be asleep. I’m gripping...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 29, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
* the same old same old and the paper cut barely scratches the surface * visions of jesus at the midnight station the last train is first * security lights now giving the star treatment to wisteria * above kfc red kites on the fly * ...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 28, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Charon Drives a Yellow Taxi in Gaza the cabbie suddenly thrust in the role of Charon is now burdened with transporting to paradise the soul of a passenger that dies before she can tell him her destination but there is a problem, he doesn’t know...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 27, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
I’m bed I’m bed not wardrobe with my back against the wall ladle not fork breast stroke not crawl lintel not brick flagpole not vault sweetcorn not wheat I would like to meet a man for swimming, visits to ikea, soup, who prefers...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 26, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Butterfly Landing Twitch and she panics away. Sit still. So. Be a karst hill, unmoving time and wait for her panting wings to slow, slow. This is a special trust or she mistakes your leg for a flower. Either way, you are blessed by this silken...
