by Helen Ivory | Aug 3, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
The Park I go for a run in the park every day before breakfast. I like the park. There’s an old-fashioned bandstand surrounded by fragrant flower beds at one end of the park, and a church that smells of old stone and lichen at the other end. I usually...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 2, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Converting the Heathens When you’re middle aged, Religion may occur to you on Fridays as the ringers swing up ropewards like failed suicides. You may find yourself prostrate or falling to your knees in the gardening section, hallelujah...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 1, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Dumb Creatures Ingleman kills penguins for God. They were a mistake, you see, in the first instance. God realises now just how stupid they look. He is embarrassed he ever created them, graceless waddling monsters that they are. So he and Ingleman...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 30, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Unrequited It was February, a leap year. I was heart sore. Garnering strength in the lengthening of days. Before this, I spent the autumn holed up in my old room watching woodpigeons court like kings and queens, listening to him laugh through paper...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 29, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
MELAS First your new minted sister, limp, limp still in her adult skin, simple sugars-less run through by red ragged fibres. Arrowheads of mitochondria, auburn as her river of hair, dipped in defects, pierce, pin her down through the...
