by Helen Ivory | Feb 18, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Nursing Games The nurses took position for the hundred metre hurdle, each focusing on the patient bedded at the end of their lane. The call bell was the signal that sent them running, leaping cold metal filing cabinets, racing towards the buzzing lights....
by Helen Ivory | Feb 17, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Profile Piece In the film even you have a tidy hairline. An interviewer could skip along it, selecting driftwood and precious stones that only peck at the skin when thrown across deep water. Both the watcher and the watched bent by the tools of...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 15, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Spring, 1942 from a letter by R.S. Thomas Morning glittering with April light, warblers sing in the wood, untroubled by the shadow that sullies my spirit. Then your gift arrives. A violin concerto, its notes wrapped with kindness, heal my heart. I...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 14, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Sun Room The builders dug the foundations, flooded them with concrete. I watched it set under a red sky. They brought in glass, stacked it high, a lofty frame to catch the sun and moon. It was when I was growing you, drinking water all day to stop...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 13, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
17 years Our mouths are no longer in love they forget their place what they used to be. After rising I pair lonely hellos spend the day elsewhere although you left some time before this. And still we return to goodnights like moths that martyr the window...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 12, 2015 | Prose & Poetry
Colporteur He abandons his car where it exhausts all its motion. First of his disciple, a goat, takes a mouthful of handbills. Hours later he can hear all the literature rumbling. He converts a fence into a blur. A cloud into a roof ornament. Balls some...
