by Helen Ivory | Sep 10, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
I have no fear now After two years with the shrink I consider myself ‘upgraded’, not cured. I have more cogs in the toolbox; more spanners, and other useful tools. And I know how to use them; I’m not a spanner in that sense. No one can open me up like a floor...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 9, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Mothers I dream you alive, that I wake to find you flying round my bed. I am not surprised, though I remember your bulk, your papery skin, as if it were only yesterday. This new alive you is warm, soft and light as a tropical breeze. This new alive you...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 8, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Gloves on My 40th Birthday At the beauty parlour, my hands were made such a fuss cuticles like dark clouds pushed back see the half polished moon and those white dots the stars, my hands the milky way. A hard labour of coarse ointment lifting layers,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 7, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
The Upstairs Bathroom commanded a view of The Backs: the allotments, the alleyways, the council estate. Here she washed away more than just dirt. (Countless spiders slid by – just temporary lodgers). The envy of her sisters, no more kitchen...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 6, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Those Night Drivers As they stride barefoot across the night With the dust of their lives between their toes. Left at home with their generations’ dream. Their sweat drips across the world. Pantheon’s lack of sagacity still scars: The day the...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 5, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Geminids Warm-wrapped, commonwards, we crackle grass-frost to stare side by side into a sky free of nightcloud except for the wisps we exhale. From all sides we’re buzzed by coming-in-to-land lights, so many and so bright they might be a single...
