by Helen Ivory | Nov 9, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
I have a friend who’s dying and it’s all he ever talks about and stepping out into the ant colony trying not to be an ant rubbing the insides and resting gravity on the palm to keep balance then down the steps married to that feeling of feeling...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 8, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
After A strange kind of derailed calm holds sway after the worst weekend when we got the thumbs down after raising hopes of a child. After your call, crying into the mobile, after the miserly portions for lunch in the first rip-off place we could...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 7, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Esperanza the Relief Sculptress Shearing the copper sheet to match the length and width of the tracing paper, she starts to rouse Lapu-Lapu’s warriors to slay Magellan. Wielding a burin, she etches every sinew into view, quick to brush bright...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 6, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The cup that I drink from before the court, if my hand lets it go, will break on the floor, glass against stone will ring, liquid will spill and flow. It will become quiet. The court will stop. It will turn towards me. It will look at me. ...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 4, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Morning Chorus The path starts beside a village green, travels up a narrow valley reaching into the foothills. A steep walk follows, through trees above that brooding, man-made lake, its glimmering surface. Arriving on this flat expanse of...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 3, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
My mum’s dream job There I am in the bus and I see that sun flashes off its windows so light jives along the street I wonder if people squint as the light flicks past their eyes and what happens when light hits a satellite dish does it ping off...
