by Helen Ivory | Nov 13, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Fiscal Policy Grandma’s cat sat on the shelf above the bread and biscuit tin, black and sleek and hollow. On my birthday Gran would pour its innards on the kitchen table. I’d count copper coins into tens, make up bags of pounds to keep. Granddad...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 12, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Nothing Broken Something was always crooked, off-true, I’d cut out across town in rain that never got through, but weighed me down. There was always a glass slipper I couldn’t fill; cold floors beneath stockinged feet, lifeless layers of damp...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 11, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Sacrifice after Genesis 22.2: Then God said, “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you. Let fathers bind their sons to altars, so the wind...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 10, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Demophobia From one microbe in a Petri dish to another let me tell you of the pathology hereabouts. For want of some pre-conceptual rubber, we are rubbing along in diluted pollution, bumcheek by jowl, bumping into each other’s preferred form...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 9, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
The Incredible Zapriskie Ponders His Retirement Plan Dawn returns with half-remembered dreams of levitation and yet more spidered scribbles on the ceiling: ‘Check your flies’ ‘Buy some hens’ ‘Damn the fog’ and ‘Magda was right.’ At lunchtime he’ll...
by Helen Ivory | Nov 8, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Close for Steve To appreciate how the sky came down into the room and lifted me up into blue, you’d have had to be there, inside my head, where all of the good things I’ve said about your calling happen spontaneously. This time, all those gifts...
