by Helen Ivory | Jun 12, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
poem in red this is a poem in red and my hands are shaking and my bed is not a bed and I lay still and I think of dreaming and I think I’m dreaming and the yellow walls are not yellow until the sun is on time and reveals that they are filthy piss...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 11, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The Un-Mother The clouds of a new dawn whisper around me – or are they nurses? The blue firmament is a light-rattled ceiling; the lighthouse of the doctor shines above me. My body is a reef – it is growing from me. I have octopus arms and legs; this bed cannot...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 10, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
At Morrison’s He tells me this is how it feels to come back from the dead; a jolt, like tripping over the raised corner of a paving slab, tasting dirt and grit and finding how strong gravity is. I tell Jim I need specifics I need specifics....
by Helen Ivory | Jun 9, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Bound for Glory My lungs are echoed in black the way the sky is patched blue come afternoon I am hanging from the splinters of my tongue in the open-eye instant of reckoning where everything is equal and the head splitting reminds me of the hot...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 8, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Envelope Those soiled rubber bands lay in wait around my thinning wrist. They now sag, strained by the third hour of toil. I await the ever expanding pile of envelopes like a convict awaiting the feel of grass under hardened feet. The machine jams...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 7, 2015 | 2015 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Galleries Walking into the intense heat of a gallery, over-coated and dripping, expecting canvass to speak without the commotion of words I will either be stunned or unimpressed but invariably silent, appraising shattered faces, elephant dung or...
