by Helen Ivory | Jul 25, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Solstice The longest night. The moon sways close on its string. We decorate the bed with figments of light – tinselly bodies drop sparks on the carpets, the sheets. The earth tilts. The stars dip near enough to waste on...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 24, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Ming Ming is a very friendly white male about eight years old. He needs to be an indoor cat as he is bewildered by the outside world. Sadly his owner has died. Starlight and Ming didn’t get on, however, and the issues involved soon divided...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 23, 2012 | Prose & Poetry, Word & Image
After When you go to the supermarket place my head in your wire basket as you wander...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 22, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
The Orphanage And years later there came a night when, balancing on a red sofa in a red room, he either fell in a clonazepam splatter to the (red) carpet or climbed the arms, back, and escaped through the high cellar window out of which he could...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 20, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Testament Drifting alone in deep space, it came across a little dead machine. It was inactive. A quick scan showed that it had been designed to study the planets that now lay years and years behind it. It was undoubtedly of extraterrestrial origin....
by Helen Ivory | Jul 19, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Kasaba Bay Bats pour like furry water from a crack beneath our rondavel’s tin roof as sunset eases sweltering heat. Slip-streamed by stink of mosquito- blood guano they fall and fly in a whispering, leather-scuffed, silver river, Colours evaporate;...
