by Helen Ivory | Aug 12, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
talking like rimbaud i don’t talk enough for them they tell me that i don’t talk we talk all day here they say to me but you just sit and say nothing i don’t know what happened to me maybe i lost the passion for conversation maybe i just got dull i’d like to...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 11, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Fireworks The fireworks came from the water, or so he thought, lighting a cigarette with an old matchbox, wishing he could light it off his girlfriend’s cheek, and leave her skin prickling with the heat. Did it mean a thing? Closing gaps in the crowd,...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 10, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Immigrant on reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s ‘Unaccustomed Earth’ Last night, I found myself floating through an airport so white it seemed like the inside of a shell seen from a baby’s eyes The luggage I was dragging behind me was light...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 9, 2012 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
Whoopers’ Greeting As the stifled windmills curve their stillness into the blank a crop of white necked swans spaced as boats in the churning green unify a...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 8, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
In Time She’d always ironed out the creases from his forehead to his socks, even their sheets were pressed like paper keepsakes in an album. Each morning she’d uncrumple and erase the lines they’d spoken on linens; wash then steam-spread them left to...
