by Helen Ivory | May 11, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
This is Where the grass-seeds quiver, and the sky bends to the curve of the sea. She asks me to close my eyes. I listen to the wind rattle the fields and remember the boy who fucked me in a bed of barley pearls. I remember his friend with the deep-deep laugh I...
by Helen Ivory | May 10, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The Beach Dead sand trickles between my naked toes. Crushed winter light befuddles borders, obscures the pier, unsettles the breakwater; ships labour under dubious cargoes. Swimmers and surfers, those gritty heroes of the shallows, have deserted, children,...
by Helen Ivory | May 9, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The New Mother found poem from Every Woman’s Doctor Book If your figure is not as trim as before make yourself a brassiere from a 45 inch length of towelling. Most mothers whose figures are loose will be much improved by wearing a good corset belt. If there...
by Helen Ivory | May 8, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Blonde On Blonde : Side 4 In spite of never having tried to learn it, you find yourself word-perfect on Sad-Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands. The whole eleven minutes 22. And where you are right now, huddled, back against the wall, between the speakers,...
by Helen Ivory | May 6, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Triptych The couple at a nearby table discuss the drapes, tartan wallpaper the pastiche highland paintings. She barely smiles, he – a sorry picture wearing the morning like a shabby coat. I want to order them joy, quarry gems from their rock faces. ...
by Helen Ivory | May 5, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
The Cut I inked the inside of my heart that day on Rosie Ward where the whole clean grid was a whitewashed board and everywhere ideas were being born to women with soft arms and skin traceable to Bethlehem. Trying to recite the words were leaking...
