by Helen Ivory | May 1, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Bell Ringers and the Slaughterhouse This is their rehearsal night: each pull and release a feel for time and tone, to peal exact. All just exercise for the biggest of days. On these frost-glazed January nights everything carries. Past those bells, down Edges Lane,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 30, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
No one will know Woke up mouth-caught, suspended in solitude, not a muscle move. Fling open a window breathe in the life outside. He is not a man. Presence presence when you want absence. It is so hard to stay here sometimes. I see blurred green...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 29, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Dolls Fever brings me a pile of white dolls in the evening light which seeps, tired, through woodwork. They have empty faces and sundered limbs poor delphic things and I don’t even know where their home is, Did you ever expect them to be this perfect? That is,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 28, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
My friend If you were a very nice, capable and patient person, my friend Ivy was better than that. If you had an expensive dress, her’s was even more expensive. If you were really happy, Ivy would have captivated you, very soon. As time passed by I learned to...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 27, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Held in hold we are hip to hip your palm pressed firm in the small of my back fingerprints left on vertebrae, the flexing of the chord in hold your heart beats in my chest and rattles bones, busting in or out I can’t decide, your gut wrestling mine to the floor,...
