by Helen Ivory | Jun 7, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Thinking Loudly The first time they meet is in the National Portrait Gallery café, below ground, before Christmas, early in the evening. ‘And that’s for you,’ she says, giving him change. She speaks with an accent and her eyes are icy blue. Is she feisty or cheeky?...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 6, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Air Passages I I want to write you new poems on the back of some abandoned ones; I folded the paper up in my rucksack and left town on a train God is closing down in this town of mine and pigeons are resting on the eaves of the church. There isn’t anything to...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 4, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
A Jurisdictional Tiff Even paced exiting into the irregular, dark marks the last least surface, an incongruous resident’s hacking cough short-circuits each breath. Such reassurance as there is, picking larkspur in mid-winter, two-stepping through miasmal...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 3, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
“Honestly, we are all children of God” Day before Christmas Eve fell on Jehovah’s rest day, I visit Pawprint. He is substantially medicated. Since my last visit he’s invested in an exotic aquarium. He still protects his shooter bong like an...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 2, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
On the realisation of absolute insignificance Cool water sweeping between half open fingers Like a goldfish with chewed fins I swam. I could never grasp the cupped hand It took me twice as long as you to get to the rock. With a sunny halo, you reached out Clasped my...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 1, 2012 | Prose & Poetry
Nobody’s Perfect After elevenses, Mr Nobody was drying up. When Perfect kept leaping at his lead hanging from a coat-hook Nobody understood his frustration. At the park they met Mr Nowhere. The friends sat watching the world go by. “Remind me...
