by Helen Ivory | Oct 22, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Make Friday Jealous It was Grey Goose Thursday at Denilson’s Restaurant. Arthur the aspiring editor sat slouched at the bar, looking down at his fifth vodka and tonic. He was vaguely aware of a buzz around him, people talking, watching a baseball game on one of the...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 21, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
To The Point Seals bask on the sand stinking of fish. Just off the beach terns scream As, one by one, they dive flashing for glittering sprats. At my feet, thrift and poppies flutter flowers glowing like stained glass. Across the inner channel a lobster boat stops to...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 20, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
An Ancient Settlement This is a true story, though I cannot believe it now. We travelled in the black Mercedes, and maybe, like me, you’ll want to know where and how. I wore a blue skirt and I wore a white blouse – this I recall because I wore them...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 19, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Lookalike For a moment I’m fooled. It’s so nearly you: box pleat skirt, lilac shoes, pink blouse pressed, hair fanned in a halo – but the face isn’t yours. You’re hidden inside a waxwork of you, looking...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 18, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Ten Gigs I Never Went To Let us assume a curvature of space, that time can be folded like paper. If this were so I could laze and sip coffee in the now, then walk the shortest route between two points, over to myself at eighteen, standing in the rain...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 17, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Ash A car window reflection is at least honest You need a shave But lately the hands haven’t been too fine and it’s been so easy to draw blood and too easy for that to feel okay There is an ash tree here of all places and a cat, limping, shares its surprise...
