by Helen Ivory | May 12, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Lugworming Two lumps of men on a plate-glass beach vulcanised by their gear like old buddy bull-seals end-on to the horizon slicing through the daily slap of a low ebb without ever touching. Lindsay Macgregor lives in Fife and is currently...
by Helen Ivory | May 11, 2013 | Reviews
‘Medical section’s upstairs,’ she told me. ‘I think it should be in fiction.’ ‘Then we don’t got it.’ Instruction Manual for Swallowing was Adam Marek’s first collection for Comma Press, a publisher remarkable for its consistent brilliance and commitment...
by Helen Ivory | May 10, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Slices Bread began to slice the woman. Don’t slice me, cried the woman. Bread had no mercy for women: sliced woman is delicious with husbands and children on top, thought bread – it smelt her rising in the warmth of a loaf: made neat, white, and...
by Helen Ivory | May 9, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Pastoral Care Dry, scaly Mr. Jenkins, history teacher doubling as pterodactyl, had just that one shrivelled slab of advice (over and bloody over, Form One, Form Two, Form Three). In the army, boys, twenty men will jump to attention when one man...
by Helen Ivory | May 8, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Love Hopes Standing in the street, watching her house as if it will walk to me. My heart sits in my mouth, waiting for this to happen, in a matter of time. I want to believe she will walk above the pavements perfectly, circle air like St...
