by Helen Ivory | Feb 19, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Egg V: Hatching This morning, I am frozen by the fecundity of birds: their binge-drunk chorus is already Greek and monstrous as Sirens, even before the sun catches up with the day. What if they sing through the window and into the bed where I lie curdled –...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 18, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Goldfish on the Coast How close we came to leaving each other on the hard shoulder, walking in different directions, following the line of fields for lonely miles then hitching a lift – me toward the sea, you with a spirit level back to the...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 17, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
PG Certificate Denholm is leaning Joan’s DVD of The Trial (the Welles adaptation) against his window, overlooking the gravel driveway. On the cover, a collage: Jeanne Moreau looks back nervily (off-guard at the sight of Anthony Perkins’s steeled...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 16, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Kizelbel, September 2004 For R. Last night was all too perfect. The only noise was the local crickets’ nightly jam session in the hills. All conversation was up against insect music, as one lone virtuoso near our balcony sang his own exquisite love...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 15, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Revival I found a frozen lizard on my walk at the red mud edge of a Devon lane. Intact and unspotted by crows or rooks, half hidden in the horse shit round the drain. I thought the creature might still be alive just stunned to stupor by the late...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 14, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Cupid and Me The day Cupid lost his arrows Dan never walked over to Paula on reception and asked her to the cinema, so they never kissed on the back row and that, in turn, meant that he never asked her to marry him that night at the fair, in front of the...
