by Helen Ivory | Dec 17, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
You Were To Me you had a moon-smile and black hair that contained the DNA of ink you had the snap of a crocodile one with no teeth and the way you smelled the air The salt of the sea made fishes consume paradise If you could ask Lydia...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 15, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
I want to give you this under blossom confetti, as Spring edges into Summer and sunlight dapples through leaves, a nap of grass studded with daisies always ending on she loves me. Emma Lee’s Mimicking a Snowdrop is...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 14, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Departure You’re being scrutinised by a woman in the carriage. She’s wearing a mauve blouse; there are dark rings around each armpit. Flushed neck fat trembles as the rest of her soft body subtly bends and leans. It’s a slow dance. You...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 13, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
The House in Which You Do Not Live There’s a knack to unlocking the door you’re unfamiliar with, a certain wiggle of the key. Imagine yourself navigating its long and echoing corridor, climbing the staircase to the mouth of a silent room. In the...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 12, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
No Candles There were no candles Around your coffin And the church was cold No altar boys to carry Cross and holy water It was I suppose A school day The priest tried To say good things About you, although They were a bit generic I went to the...
by Helen Ivory | Dec 11, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Graduate The bell ringing tumbles clanging down your spine. You feel a soft wind, warm enough for bare legs, and the baked grass stencils itself into your flesh. It’s the slow yellow evening after her graduation. You think back to trying on her...
