by Helen Ivory | Sep 16, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Lying to my Therapist I’m good. There’s a television channel selling me photocopiers and it makes me feel good. There’s a political crisis in the Maldives and I feel good. The selection of plant-based milks at my local supermarket make me feel...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 15, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Night Out man stands drunk on the bridge leaning over the water like a streetlamp the light drops is scattered like gold coins on the black water a DNA double helix of gold turned by the water’s teeth isn’t it frightening how soon beneath the skin...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 14, 2019 | 2019 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Ice These days the permafrost is no such thing, breeds crooked shoots, springs fingers. Ancient hands reach out to us from ice through melting rings: our histories disinterred from broken land. Revenants with their bronze-age seeds, knapped...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 13, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
The Ashmolean is Closed We’ve Skyped a few times, he’s a Quaker, seems sane, so I agree to a date, do Sudoku on the train, meet him at the station with a head full of numbers (eleventh hour, third age), we talk in code, walk by the Thames, detour...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 12, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Cost Benefit Analysis Imagine walking into a deserted corridor without the fear of cobwebs catching in your hair or in your face. Imagine running a bath without the need to check first that there are no occupants already. Imagine sleeping at ease,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 11, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Weather Forecast after Wilhelmina Barns-Graham That thin haze over the sun is made of ice crystals, a woman on the radio said as you dressed, cirrostratus nebulosus heralding bad weather. Here chairs judder across tiled floors lights shine icy on...
