by Helen Ivory | Nov 27, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Klonjuze Say it with me, that Germanicky-Spanishy word you made up to toast tea parties with cats and eyeless dolls, to celebrate our wins at fixed Olympics. No one heard it but me back then, back when you were my sleep and I your waking. Sharing a room we shared a...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 26, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Life On Wellington Road I live in a row of three identical houses – red brick, mossy roofs, and gardens that miss the afternoon sun. There is a house nearby that a blackbird has twice lead me to. The second time I recognised it by the white spot on...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 25, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Love and Houses I know a couple that made a house. Laid down hardwood floors and carpets and built up walls like lego. Clothes hang from the ceiling washing-rack. There’s a pop-art kitchen blind, lavender in the bathroom and a TV on the bookshelf...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 24, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Back Alley He found himself in a back alley; no one was there with a knife. The black cat was only sleeping in the only sliver of sunlight it had been able to find. With nowhere to hide, no dumpsters to sort through, no forgotten boxes, he could...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 23, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Re-stringing the Boy It takes hours. We move from socket to socket unknotting his spine, the droop in his shoulders, those loose dangling hands. The way he came on stage the other day, just slumped in, hardly lifting his head. I had to jerk the main string...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 22, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Loss Of Breath There were better ways for lovers to meet. He’d been tying his shoelace on a street corner, his fat, ripped cello case leaning against the wall, and she’d come flying around it, the wind dramatizing her hair as she clamped the case notes...
