by Helen Ivory | Apr 24, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
foolish man “ich bin zufrieden,” i murmured you looked at me as if i had lost my mind and asked me, “you are what?” “happy. it means i am happy.” mostly i ignore braggarts, but when you insisted your sister...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 23, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
A Brief Analysis of Soup and Soup Making I invite you to consider this pot of broth. Neither meal nor beverage, it side-steps categorization with a gentle, but jaunty slop. Mistress of disguises, it can sometimes be stew, chilli, gravy. Good soup is not...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 22, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Knife I’d like a knife, small enough to pocket. If you could find a pretty one I’d appreciate it. Shallowness I prize most of all. Sorry if this is dark. I’m not good at being profound, but I’m quite good at silence and mood-killing. I suppose...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 21, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
A Million to One “Why do movies always have bad people in them?” Morey Bernstein wasn’t old enough yet to be sitting in the front seat, so his question came floating up from the back. Maureen looked into the rear view mirror to study her little...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 20, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
First Long Walk after Convalescence (Fair Isle) The blue cross on the Sumburgh plane is stretched in the wind. Skylarks are drilling holes in the sky. An irritation of midges and the hazy static of bog-cotton blur the Dunlins Sink. The Burn of...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 19, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Hooked I stuffed my hook in a ragworm’s jaws, caught a glum goby with a ground line, hooked peacock rockfish, cats-meat pollack, spinning with the twins off The White Rock. With a sun-thawed, severed sandeel head, I foul-hooked fighting...
