by Helen Ivory | Sep 22, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
A beginner’s guide to glassmaking Palms of my hands, I cast my lens in them, my concave – being magnified. Crux and frizz: spin of keratin. and on concrete chip the teeth and swallow of volition, and I...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 21, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Border State Or Through a Glass Darkly in the black space is the black face of a slim black boy or girl slender black chest pout of lips a round that might be a testicle black as a plum there are no eyelashes there are crows that scatter but do...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
PECHA-KUCHA-BOY 1 The computer I was using got locked in the art room. It’s not here. But I am. I’m Max. Year 10. I’ve got a list, but no PowerPoint. Sorry. Oh – and the first slide had writing on it. It said INTRODUCTION. 2 DOG OK, so I took a...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
You if you were a holy person birds would fly to your hand the way they flew to that elderly man on the path by the Serpentine to feed on the pellets and seeds piled up on his welcoming palm if you were only you you’d stroke the shadowy contours...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 18, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Leda Meets Helen She is fresh on this globe from my globed belly and I am too scared to look. I dread the moment she opens her eyes. She could have his black beads. I unwrap her. Not a feather in sight. I turn her over and over with delight, run...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 17, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Pudding We ate our meals with hair-raising intensity. Corked our ears in the joy of savouring, bored by repetition as the iron grip of history held Dad in full throat. His achievements poured over our meals like sauce, invited cheers, a promise to...
