by Helen Ivory | Nov 16, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The proof of being able to cook It’s happening again. I can feel fat settling around my hips, adipose in my bones my scars stretching. I don’t want it to set up home. It’s as welcome as a part-live frog cat-left on a door mat that thrashes and gulps its skin...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 14, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Snipe Her wet eyes were green as fenland water. The twelfth day of August and she could hide alongside you in her crypsis of hair until it seemed that you might step on her – then she’d be gone in a clatter of pans, a flap of arms, a...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 13, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Rare Humiliated behind glass black, point nosed Beluga Sturgeon, float on a terrace. After the seminar astronomers eat salad, watch stars flick on. I too am interested in the Universe but cannot see past the cook picking up a glove as grills glow red in...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 12, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Chorus from The Returning We are the people, the nation and the state We are the inscriptions, the documents The declarations, the pomp and the circumstance, The structures of being, the bedrock of commerce The official face of the face in...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 11, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Greece Until now, I hadn’t noticed your way: turning your back as you cut bread, a half-turn, so you would still see my face. Zoe Broome is a writer who has been published in magazines and anthologies. Broome’s first collection Back To...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 10, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
On Jaffa Street The orange spins from the doorway startles the bright pitted sphere bounces on smooth dark stone the puddle jumps orange turns in on itself rolls tracing a narrow wake in the rain before it can rest the juice man counters scoops it...
