by Helen Ivory | May 28, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Camber My nose is pressed close to the mirror but it is as if I am looking at something far far away, past the cathedral and the factory and the fields we once lolled on during the summer months so long ago, sharing the fancy seasonal...
by Helen Ivory | May 27, 2013 | Reviews
In a typical year, I read a lot of new poetry, not all of it, including some of my own, overwhelmingly interesting. Now and again, though, a review...
by Helen Ivory | May 26, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Clot Awake. The road is a tunnelled sea of black-red bumpers, circulation thick and stop-start. Granite arches of yellow narrow the lanes, from Ulnar to Basilicus, sludging up the traffic into inky gasps of movement. So I take the...
by Helen Ivory | May 25, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Mismatch I was only the French Maid now and again in a little black dress, stockings and duster. She was ‘Brigitte’ and I couldn’t do the accent. I’d have liked to be Ursula Undress with a knife or any Bond girl with an exciting name like Trigger...
by Helen Ivory | May 24, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Mrs Gilhooly, Dancing Every so often she climbs the stair. She goes to birl, to fit the flair, to wind the gramophone on an upright chair, and lilts full throttle through her bobs and reels, her chicken vocals bleating peals in the raw November...
