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The Twelfth Day of Christmas – Maria Taylor, Stephanie Green and Karen Dennison

by Helen Ivory | Jan 4, 2015 | 12 days 2014

  Flurry Window panes bear the weight of winter snow. Something unseen leaves ice fingerprints on glass. Inside the debris: torn paper hats novelty shrapnel from crackers screwed-up fists of wrapping paper. Carollers sing of birds and gold rings. You twist the...

The Eleventh Day of Christmas – Ben Banyard and Sally Goldsmith

by Helen Ivory | Jan 3, 2015 | 12 days 2014

      So, This Is Christmas Your mouth’s stuffed with tinsel; it bristles in your throat, just as glitter cakes your eyes. Holly scores your forehead and you lose crowns on the secret flaming sixpence. You’re becoming obese: heart’s wreathed in goose...

The Tenth Day of Christmas – Mick Corrigan and Bethany W Pope

by Helen Ivory | Jan 2, 2015 | 12 days 2014

      Whatever Happened to Cain? (ii) A woman giving birth in the cow byre, her agony loud in the cold night air. All the bedrooms full to bursting I slept out amongst the camels. During the early hours a fall of snow brought silence, giving the lie of...

The Ninth Day of Christmas – Zelda Chappel, Charlotte Gann and Maggie Butt

by Helen Ivory | Jan 1, 2015 | 12 days 2014

      New Year Write to me and tell me how you long for snow, the crisp white blank of new beginnings. I’ve watched you, enjoying the poise of waiting, the rough edge of the cusp of it grinding at our skin ’til we’re raw with it....

The Eighth Day of Christmas – Hannah Linden, Marc Woodward and Gareth Writer-Davies

by Helen Ivory | Dec 31, 2014 | 12 days 2014

    December Time of water light. Air and earth light spread so thin and dirty, washes of fishscales autumn skeletons fill the sky and fade. This the sad time. Parents worry their pockets children dredge dreams for real smiles gifted this one day of...

The Seventh Day of Christmas – Peter Daniels, Carole Bromley and Neil Fulwood

by Helen Ivory | Dec 30, 2014 | 12 days 2014

      The Influenza Carol A wreath at every advent calendar door, no room to rest the oxen in my head: I’m fasting to rebuild my stomach floor, and celebrate my crawling out of bed. The spruce is green until the needles drop, its fairy and its lights...
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