by Helen Ivory | May 21, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Dreich it’s best like this on grey days roundabouts in rain lamposts framing a slate-sky a bridge doused in mist buildings blurring from trees and it’s thrilling as if everything is in repose like a wet afternoon at home in front of overcomplicated...
by Helen Ivory | May 19, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Quilt The October sun breeds cataracts and the breeze freezes my bones. My neck is wool-deep in check and it’s hard to text with mittens on. It’s not been this bright in weeks the glow shows glitter in rows up the street. The morning, like a hot drink in a cold...
by Helen Ivory | May 18, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Edinburgh Departures They were dressed in black. Corporate Bohemian. They could have been mistaken for a couple. She talked incessantly, her coffee cup at her lips. She was being herself, he guessed. He had spent the day trying desperately to be something other than...
by Helen Ivory | May 17, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
In the falling deer’s mouth There was an axe, and it buried the tree. A footprint like God entered the blank space. Every creaking sound was a leaking of butterflies ring by ring, surfacing the wound. Yellow, spirit like. A cry has taken refuge in the rock. Even now...
by Helen Ivory | May 16, 2012 | Reviews
There is a softness at work in Abegail Morley’s second collection, Snow Child, published by Pindrop Press. Words appear on the page with the crisp crunch of footsteps on fresh snow. Opening...
