by Helen Ivory | Aug 16, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
Day Off Vultures don’t fly on Sundays, it’s their day off. No use saying you’d like to see them flying about, they won’t do it, haven’t for ages. I can tell you where they are – they’re down by the disused railway hanging out, walking up and...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 15, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
Clocking off from Sankeys This young man’s veins run with smelted iron. Shift ends. Furnace bellows push him home. He feels for his key in the oil worn bag rummages for fags wedged between Sketchpad and empty sandwich tin. Lighting on the...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 14, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
Out Of Bounds The sweet shop, for starters. Dabs, dibs, Creamola Foam, anything with a fizz. The maids upstairs in their own dormitory, who passed us a copy of Modern Sunbathing. Travelling too far beyond the cricket pavilion, where temptation...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 11, 2023 | Featured, Poetry
The calling You’re sitting in the half-light, in a cavern scoured from limestone, on a boulder by an underground stream. Behind: a dark tunnel, too narrow to crawl through, where water flows from, cool and clear. Ahead: heaped debris, the walls of...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 10, 2023 | Featured, Prose
Quince There is a quince tree in the Alice Munro short story The Moons of Jupiter, and also in the poem “Lunch With Pancho Villa” by Paul Muldoon. In the novel The Love of Singular Men, by the Brazilian author Victor Heringer, a mother beats her...
