by Helen Ivory | Apr 22, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
raised in the wrong ways I’ve never been any good at fire-safety because I was raised to be a sacrifice by men who explode & the word belief by women who bleed one way or another- mother… he threatened to slit his throat in front of us when we...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 21, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
poem for the fine art of immortality spirits larger than the summer sun and how high were we flying when we got the news about cobain’s death? how fast were we driving trying to leave all the pain of that last grey winter behind? and i don’t think...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 20, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
The Dulcimer-girls (for Coleridge) (Oh, and the Dulcimer-boys) they’re the ones making the bloody noise banging on those lovely instruments on an Autumn night at 3 A.M and it’s so nice – and, yes, I guess it’s Leeds –...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 19, 2019 | 2019 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Therapy Take thistledown, hold it in the bowl of your palms. Feel it tingle like Spumante. No, it can’t mend your heart, but it will float you to the surface of your skin. A cure for that dull ache under the ribs, that beats each time you long for...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 18, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
A Strange Case There’s something floating in the Brayford Pool. Two swans, raw recruits, investigate. As a sub-plot, one showboats the other. The pen ignores him. Two high-viz guys in a high-viz launch circle, decide it’s possibly wood, not a...
