by Helen Ivory | Jul 29, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
library at the end of the sixties i lived in a library took out the tintin books i had a card i lived in the books when the library was closed they had to return me or they’d get a fine it was bright, comfy shelves and some tables and chairs...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 28, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
All the white rooms My life has become Accustomed, To these clinical rooms Where they take my blood And I am no stranger. A second home. The nurses know my name And my illness These people have become my friends I visit so often. I have a...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 27, 2018 | 2018 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Epoch And I can’t can’t do the 7:45 wetness on the bathroom floor anymore I step in it And my socks are sad on the way to work. Conduit Road is more miserable having items which weep unexpectedly. I’m sorry that I break once every 28 days. It’s an...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 26, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
the end of the night Think you there was or might be such a man / As this I dreamed of? (Antony and Cleopatra, Act V Scene II) the thighs of my skinny vodka are barely covered with Coke, short-skirted sugar in my mouth, this nightclub is a fermented...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 25, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Four Lavender Pots, November 2015 Our lavender are dead but there is light on them. Browned, traumatised – the four pots failed in September, while we were away, for lack of water. Their bee-summons purple is no more; they attract no...
by Helen Ivory | Jul 24, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Ragnarök After Milosz When it comes, and it will, it will come on a plain weekday, perhaps in early spring or autumn, a frowsy day, one that woke late and got dressed in a hurry without care quite forgetting to comb its hair, which anyway got damp in the...
