by Helen Ivory | Nov 22, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The Doctor Will See You (As A Piece of Meat, Until You Start Bleeding Everywhere) Measured in syllables, the distance between the kitchen door and table is not enough to avoid the question. The way that silence makes a mess of you if you really bite into...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 21, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Autumn October when my red-haired mother was found. Lying still, insect-thin, sleeping. Though her lips were the bluest they’d ever been. Neighbours called: offered broth. I’d ran, hidden amongst reed grasses, gripped thistle heads and blackberry...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 20, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Stranger This is the cry that hollows the walls, that shrinks like evening Primrose clicking on window frames, rapping out the ticks of post-nocturnal gloom, the accepted hour of life. It is afraid its words are meaningless, rattling the bannisters umbral...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 19, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The Monster in the Mirror When I look at myself cold in the morning the monster’s sister looks right back. These hazel eyes I got them from my father. I have been stitched together from the dead. But I have drunk the wine, drunk it down and put the stopper back...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 18, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The Mechanical Turk A neat contrivance of rods and cams creates the illusion a hustler seeks. His window dressing perfects the hoax: the turban and robes a thespian’s flourish. This season Mechanicks is all the rage in fairground shows and court,...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 17, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Light Bearer I’ll leave Fear by the door, you say as you step in. You’re bone-weary, broken, borne down by the weight you bring. Shadows shrink from you. Is it time? I ask, for I know you after all. Only for tea, you say. I breathe, then please,...
