by Helen Ivory | Nov 5, 2018 | 2018 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
First Birth The two owls shout from the rooftop A hurricane of bats flies around, A father devours his own child in silence. The rising stars struggle to breathe in The first to go out in the dark is the slum boy knowing no one is waiting, A monster...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 4, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
The Conker Trees Wanging the stick up into the conker trees, it seemed like the best ones hung just out of range, bulging, like wrecking balls, unconquerable, unshifted by wind, their stems unsnipped by sun. Or if they fell, we must have still been in...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 3, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
How Not to Start the Day One should avoid at all costs Ungodly hours such as 3.15 or 4.22 – You are not a night-watchman Unless of course you are a night-watchman In which case you should read these instructions During the night and not during the day...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 2, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Powerless in Town at Half-Past Nine The pharmacist in her white coat and I are conducting a £4.99 transaction when the power’s cut off all over town. With her cash tray exposed in the strange false dusk she fumbles me five pound coins and a penny,...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 1, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
How did he do that? How do you know when you meet one, one of the good ones? The rule is, some people say, you don’t notice anything exactly but you get a sort of unusual floating feeling and carried along feeling like a leaf on a stream,...
