by Helen Ivory | Jun 15, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Wider When Standing After Les Murray Lower gravity means less weight and a woman is wider upright. Phonophobia is a natural fear of loudness. You may fear your own voice. Norway is the happiest country in 2017. A whip crack breaks the speed of sound....
by Kate Birch | Jun 14, 2018 | 2018 poetry picks, Blogs & News, Prose & Poetry
IF Grenfell Tower a Year On If trying to keep your head, you raced towards the pillar of flame and smoke choking the building, not knowing if your children, partner, mother, brother, friend were trapped inside it; if you lost one or many...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 13, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Whales I know not to tell you that one day you’ll be better, so instead I tell you this: We are blue whales, we lie solitary on the ocean floor, looking up at a surface where life is nothing but silhouettes. I tell you I feed on white...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 12, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Sick Leave I tip the whole dark tray night gave me into the trash and tie the sack having woken with a gutful of aching uncertainty and wishing a white sail for sickness. I call for the sun. It comes sliding its hands inside the curtains – almost...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 11, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Coffee shop blues Chalkboard announces all the different brews of scented loose and bagged up tea, of aromatic coffee ground from beans. There are sugared buns and golden tray bakes, soft and sticky comfort behind glass, every kind...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 9, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Aubade The sun gives the curtain the look of love, its light through a bride’s organza, as I leave your rapid eyes and wonder how far you’ve gone with the tramadol. Somewhere you’re lucid, scaring yourself I’ll leave you. The meds prolong the...
