by Helen Ivory | Oct 12, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
minotaur I monster interred in this endlessness 0f millstone lowest of light & slimy slip snubbles and inchety scrittles they’re poor distraction I wait to feel the air waver from prayerbleats and panic blunderings so easy to track then come amusetime...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 11, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
All Aboard the Death Train She felt nothing on the train, squashed between Uncle Harry in his drooping black trousers and her old Bubby, who moaned aloud in Yiddish, raising her voice to Yahweh, “Vat the hell is going on? We done nothing...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 10, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Mail to the Moon I read your poems and one reminded me of something I had written so I put it in the post. Then reading on I saw the dates and realised you were recently dead and so my poem would land in a hallway where it would only remind anyone...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 9, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Summer, coming to an end He interrupted me: Look at the bees! I didn’t answer, so he came and crouched where I lay. Look at them, he whispered, going ballistic in the toadflax! And they were, busy-humming in the flowers, innocent as children holding hands, as...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 8, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Conchita reads Pablo Picasso’s letter to God (while he is painting) Your committee for time-keeping has ruled diphtheria a highly unpunctilious event. By consensus you can’t seem to remember this being planned into any agendas. You call me...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 6, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
The Woman Who Could Not Say Goodbye He’ll come to hear it soon enough, by the door where a woman can simply put herself out with the milk. The air there is ivory, cool as a piano key worn by notions of leaving that didn’t play out. It is not a...
