by Helen Ivory | Jan 27, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Robert Harding is Dead Turn all the locks, put down the phone, I’ve something to say , about someone you’ve known, Robert Harding is dead* He’s passed away, His fuse has blown. Where were you when you heard? Withdrawing money? Parking...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 26, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Rooks Amber takes her turn and waits. The rooks are a clockwork mechanism made for gathering bones and this landing strip is littered. You’d spat them out with mustard vigour, mouth running dry as hay having no use for them now, you’d...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 25, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
The Voice that Thunders [A cut-up poem inspired by, and in honour of, Alan Garner and his work] In order to understand what I had – the landscape I inherited, the beauty things, dreams and patterns of myth – I found myself walking. Every...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 24, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
I Don’t Want My Adidas Hoodie Back in an abandoned carriage at the end of the disused train tracks you pull on the strings of my adidas hoodie drawing me closer to you covering my face closing off the rest of the world so that all i can see is you...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 23, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
IV (From Fox-Boy) The hospital lights are rushing bright; smile cannot be unpicked from her lips, the nurses coo to each other and peep around the door, Come and look Is this the baby with all the hair? Oh, isn’t he beautiful, look Look, at all his hair...
