by Helen Ivory | Apr 3, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Time Twist Time slips; it twists together. The staircase now – Tom, frozen with his school-bag. The staircase then – Esther, stopped mid-step, her slim white foot in a dancing slipper, ball gown brushing banisters. A moment when they see between,...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 2, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
From Gabriel’s Hounds (a work in progress) The soft-looking grey glove-skin of the hands Her hands on the bedsheet. The bedsheet folded down over the quilt and the hands resting neatly on the sheet, as if they had been folded down as well. More...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 1, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Bedern. Midnight geese. A place of alleyways and turnings back, each blocked with drifts of shadow black as soot. Moonlight streams between tall cliffs of brick, paints windows slick with silver. Caught in the city’s underglow a dozen greylags...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 31, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
keep an eye among those three eyes of Durga the third one has been the same over the ages it has been kept open full or half sculptors never bothered they have been experimental only on her earthly eyes Kiriti Sengupta is the...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 30, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The Future My children think they know you as they prepare statements to gain entry into the next of what you have in store. They return each night with requests for homework and parties which bulge in their bags indistinguishably. Perhaps you look on...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 29, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
How weather affects them Accustomed to the yes and no of things, one day she’s brimming, mercurial, the next, a dish of mud. When it’s wet he remembers drought. When there’s only dust, he wants rain to fill the shallows. Winds have scoured her...
