by Helen Ivory | Dec 16, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Behind the Glass There is a thrush on the lawn and a ladybird on the other side of the window. This is that calm; the clouds look liquid, there are crows high up mixed like dust-bits in a drink, but down here the fingers of the reaching conifer...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 15, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
A Fish Hook (Barbed) The wardrobe is shut tight, the latch awkward as she lifts it, up and over the rusted catch. Her fingers touch the jacket first: wool-worn, fraying at the seam. The arm across her shoulder limp, loose, a useless thing. It smells of...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 14, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Dairy tale It is the first twin thefts I like least Her calf stolen Her milk stolen Then the theft of her wandering Her daylight stolen Her grazing stolen There is the theft of her name Her Daisy stolen Her Henrietta stolen Not to mention the...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 13, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
San Francisco, On the F-Train He was a poet and when he saw something really interesting he made notes in a little black notebook. He noticed a young girl in careless hipster clothing scrunched up on the front bench of the antique Milano...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 12, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The Answer Oh, you know me: resourceful type. I’ll manage. – my reply as we sat in a corridor grown too familiar, waiting for the nurse to call your name. You understood, as did we both, the function of the words — legerdemain, no more,...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 11, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Progress Wasn’t there a time when All that adult talk Of a past where dark skin Swung from trees, And ballot boxes beyond the reach of women’s hands, Seemed like a sad dream? I was a full-bellied child. “Famine” was an antique word, Rusting like...
