by Helen Ivory | Jul 17, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
End of the Shift There’s no other sound (well, maybe one other) which is so familiar, sweeps sweat back onto the brow, pours the first cold one, turns up the volume, gets the keys ready for lock-up. Only a broom on wet floor- it must be soaked then scratched to...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 16, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Glass Between I see the moon hanging like an old dog tag in the sky and I hear the owl send out its two notes searching. I know all that I see and all my knowing is transparent. Looking inwards is living only half a life. I frame the some view, a...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 15, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
New Kid on the Tower Block Balletic you tested each stair with toe, pad and heel. Your hand glided the banister as you stopped to shake sunshine into the dark staircase. Your shirt held clouds you’d clung onto on the rooftop. I could see the...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 14, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Regarding a smudge in a photograph. Shapeless/stubborn, indistinguishable/insignificant, an erroneous trick of light? Or is it I? I, i , ı , ı , . eighteen a full stop on the horizon. eyes of two suns burning, a...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 13, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Showing Promise When my father was sixteen he could throw an egg over the house, run through the rooms and catch the egg unbroken in the back garden. The doors would be open, his mother in the kitchen crying oh George as he dashed and his dad outside...
