by Helen Ivory | Aug 1, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Angels writing to the Hebrides Madam, there has been a misunderstanding, a misapprehension, something of that sort. Although we angels do drop daily to the heather, it is not a question of bad oxygen supply. No, we like it. It is probably a sexual thing....
by Helen Ivory | Jul 31, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
On Milking Stile Lane An old house like a dusty afternoon in a town terrace of June weekdays. A brown front door propped on a brick, the step smooth as an arm. A hall of dazzled dark, as cold as a beer bottle beaded wet from the fridge. From bed a...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 30, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Hopeless Cause or Maybe Not Early November, one Monarch but so late. Already frost cut the thread that led from summer. The milkweeds are all dead with their whitesailed seeds settled down from drifting. Lone Monarch lingerer priming for flight on the...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 29, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Lathallan I breathe earthy wettish smells through mossy planks, and – prickle – hearing snuffling close by; through dark glass glimpse wraiths of milky smoke: a petrol-blue jumper lurches into view, then i’m...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 27, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
If present trends continue Scientists believe, predict, that if and should, we’ll all be – that’s a proven fact. Scientists assert (and to a man, or possibly a woman) even if, or when, or by some chance, Black Swan Event, a blip, an unforeseen, a...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 26, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Sister Moon All day she watches. When I hang out laundry, ceanothus branches frame her cloud-cupped face. I peg socks, shirts, pull down cotton sleeves. She’s out of place in this wind battered garden where bruises play ring o’ roses at my throat....
