by Helen Ivory | Sep 6, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Clinging For three days I’ve carried you on my back even though you keep falling off. Unhurt, I help you atop my shoulders once more praying that you’ll cling to me so tightly my hair will tear out in clumps. Your tiny body keeps falling though— my special...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 5, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
In Syracuse Yesterday evening Archimedes came round for a bath. He was ages about it and afterwards he said he’d been thinking about the relationship of mass to volume the mathematics of bodies and cooling bath water. I said I hoped he had not...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 4, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
With a torch He could have signalled out to sea An SOS, a wrecker’s trick A flattened hand against the lamp, He might have seen inside himself As children do He would have finger-painted Scarecrow silhouettes Until the sun seeped through the blinds Until...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 3, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Good Luck It was his great good luck not to have had an expensive education nor pull nor place nor privilege at all, but that he, living alone, in ’98, should be working for Murphy’s, a small firm in a small country town, buying and selling musical...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 2, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
The Land & The Sea In the mornings the fishing boats collect. In the grey-blue mist of the nearly-light they arrive at the harbour mouth, their decks heaped (or not) with last night’s catch. Here the fishermen’s voices practice themselves...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 31, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Sign There is a dull grey shimmer on the surface of the water in the harbour and the same sort of restlessness you get as it starts to simmer in a pan. Although it is not hot, it looks as though it should be. Above the surface, there is a sign I cannot...
