by Helen Ivory | Oct 1, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Break Time Remember the lumber of the teacher’s words buckling under the bell’s smash. Remember us kids blocking at the door to get out a bundle of smells: the nose fuss of jumper wool, spicy graphite on pencil stained fingers, our little mouths...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 30, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Dying at Midnight Two big attendants in white coats are here to remove my remains. My son called the mortuary after Murphy said I was gone. The doctor, a good neighbor, came over at midnight, found no pulse and made it official. I could have saved him...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 28, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
On Sickness Well what can I say; what can I say? I’ve been in the hotpot little under a month, nay; barely three weeks and a day; first crowded in excess; now shunted, wild worn-out and alone. In the grasp of a nearby concrete maze there echoes...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 27, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Living Room I saw the painting first, hung above the sofa, a pike smiled from a riverbed, water dripped. The walls, not as I remember, flock filigree. Mould creeping along the seams. I sat, rested my feet on a Persian rug. It undulated. Hovered an...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 26, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Antonio’s Lament I’ll never understand why you Pursue These feeble imitations, which Themselves Combust like embers lost and found; They burn Upon a moonscape made of mud. Silent Except for the occasional fizzle, we Vent steam At one another’s...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 25, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Swollen River Suddenly bright, after mid-December murk, a shopping centre Saturday. Rhodri, writing a piece for his newspaper, Christmas Commercialised, notes first of all, and more than anything, that lovely swollen river, racing its course...
