by Helen Ivory | Apr 12, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Sucker Let’s buy a house – a big one – big enough to hold old resentments and future fights. Let’s get an old one, one in the country, the kind that has a lock on each door and a bomb shelter in the garden (so there’s somewhere to run...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 11, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
letter to pluto in a parallel life, you were a dog in technicolor/ with meals & a kid to play ball with/ a family to mourn your death/ but here, you’re a change- ling child- misplaced, scrawny, too cold for a normal country fireplace to warm...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 10, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Crossing Points: The Last Hour It’s late, and he’s watching. Each rise of her chest is less tangible than a prayer. Now and then he presses an ear to her lips, his own breath held close. He spends an hour sitting with her eggshell hand curled into his...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 9, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
The Orchard Down past rough slivers of Cotswold stone wall was the lower garden reaching from earth gnarled tendrils erupted like arthritic hands pear and cooking apple trees with sweet bitter fruit The pommes were balls of...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 8, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
October Fourteen was the number of the bus that took me to St Cloud, the house at number fourteen in the square, a Georgian house turned into flats – fourteen occupants lived there. Three students on the first floor- that was us; three...
