by Helen Ivory | Aug 11, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The Toy I had a toy fire-truck sent to me for Christmas, the usual shiny red with a ladder on top. I dressed a doll as a fireman with a helmet made out of paper, made him rescue the baby stranded in the attic of my doll’s house. I saw the heat...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 10, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Taking the Piss ‘I hear you’re a tough guy’ Eddie said as we stood at the urinals; ‘That’s bullshit’ I said grinning ‘I’m the toughest’ Eddie finished and zipped- up and waited for me, I finished, zipped-up walked over to the basin washed my hands...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 9, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Wolf Spider Hey, wolf spider on the bathtub bottom scaling porcelain, slipping — uncatchable. I want to shower. You dodge my washcloth, you dart away. You idiot. I’m trying to help. Must I spray you to the drain? Bare-ass, crouching I pause, resting my...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 7, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Lambent On the Fen, they wait for you lanterns held to guide you in to their quagmire caltrop trap. The sucking, stinking peat sea-salted silt where you could be preserved for future gawpers: Your frit-faced, leather-skin mask askew from the weight of centuries...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 5, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
In Which We Separate The mirror cymbal crash – rain mimicry; glass against floorboard. Door slam bassline thump and the rain; soft again on window sill… Isn’t this the bliss we asked for? Jack Tinmouth is a budding poet in his...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 4, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Dilection Was it love? I know not. You were a member of my laterigrade moves. Incognito we become ourselves like some of me: sans tags I trudged. It was a phase of intermezzos: petrichor never was as redolent. Love danced, drank, ditched with...
