by Helen Ivory | Jul 16, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
A Failed Coup Now, I predict, that not-so-secret citizen will reflect On a catalogue of failure, ending a history of outrage Against the state. Papers you have passed me Reveal his alarmingly low scores in all But the most rudimentary civil...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 15, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Against Nature People call her a goddess I never could see it myself It was my parents pushed us together walking through mud in the country park but we gradually drifted apart I’ve not seen her for a while I’m happier...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 14, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Boarding In her nineties she begins to daydream shrugging off the rug and velcroed slippers to dig her toes in the tumbled strandline of the residents’ lounge. Standing, she watches while the morning swishes up around her, noisy with the squawk of...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 13, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
The elephant in the room is an elephant. Far from ignoring it, we are trying to recall exactly how it snuck in here, how long we have before it strips the house-plants, hose-pipes its trunk to one of the bath-taps to satisfy its extraordinary...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 12, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Counting Down 10 counting ten the last bus is empty she wants to stay at least the lights are friendly and she can talk to the driver 9 counting nine a dark street nothing can frighten her now she watches the clouds treads quietly pinpoints the moon 8...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 11, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Early Days Squeezing my eyes tight shut. The feel of my hands in prayer. Not being chosen. Collecting bus tickets. Black print on white paper, serrated edges. A row of numbers. If they added up to 21 you gave them to someone you loved. Alan Briggs gave me one, he...
