by Helen Ivory | Jul 13, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
The elephant in the room is an elephant. Far from ignoring it, we are trying to recall exactly how it snuck in here, how long we have before it strips the house-plants, hose-pipes its trunk to one of the bath-taps to satisfy its extraordinary...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 12, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Counting Down 10 counting ten the last bus is empty she wants to stay at least the lights are friendly and she can talk to the driver 9 counting nine a dark street nothing can frighten her now she watches the clouds treads quietly pinpoints the moon 8...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 11, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Early Days Squeezing my eyes tight shut. The feel of my hands in prayer. Not being chosen. Collecting bus tickets. Black print on white paper, serrated edges. A row of numbers. If they added up to 21 you gave them to someone you loved. Alan Briggs gave me one, he...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 10, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Learning To Be I was not always like this; once, there was more of me; imagine this skeleton re-clothed, blackbird glossy, fleshy-plump. She, as I always think of my younger self, was dissatisfaction incarnate, and look where she’s got me. We were meant...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 9, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
War Paint A bonfire burns winter; the man standing and stoking the flames drinks from a flask. The smoke is sweet and toxic in equal amounts. A woman watches from her kitchen window, giving names to the shapes she sees. In the...
