by Helen Ivory | Apr 12, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Patterns of Growth: Patterns of Decay Beneath the weight of stolen love the main branch splinters, & the stranger takes fruit newly in reach. The bough holds tight. He pulls it free without regard or care for any pain. The tree will not...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 11, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
February 12 – the day the birds first sing, according to the medieval calendar. For now, they are caught in the dewdrops the spider has hung to dry on the Hills Hoist overnight; in the rookeries that bouclé the threadbare Elm. All is mist or...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 10, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Agnostic Afloat You were a good boy, following your parents’ advice, never going out in the rain. At the sound of rain you dove under the bed, bawled and shouted, “Come out, come out wherever you are” but no one came out, not even you....
by Helen Ivory | Apr 9, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Green Fingers Such journeys as we had were something really something else the zip of trees in the train’s panorama our lunches packed with sandwiches and gin as we rushed to plant a weed at the top of a hill the unreal amber houses stretching out...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 8, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Missing You were not the rowan tree, silhouetted on your practice net at the far end of the garden. We children did not occupy a nesting place in forking boughs, experiment with harmonies, and we did not learn to fly under pinnate symmetries of...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 7, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Concordia Voice of a dinner bell, body of a dollhouse. Her ribcage a miniature dining table, seating painted people all smiling in agreement. How quaint! See how the tiny wife holds the tiny lasagne, topped with tiny golden brown crumbs. Fragrant...
