by Helen Ivory | Feb 2, 2020 | Featured, Poetry, Prose
John At the Food Lion south of town, at the express checkout, the clerk’s name pin reads “John.” In his thirties, thin, in black pants and a blue polo shirt, the store uniform, John has a shaved head and a scar that runs from his left ear up over...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 1, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
When I become a Rhino I’ll fill out twenty-fold, grow solid as an anvil. The horizon of me will cross the far savannah, My mouth will grow wyd, keratin thicken upward. I’ll develop rough-bark, tarmac dermal armour to deflect the sharpest barbs,...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 31, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Kandinsky called me from an opalescent sky I’ve cracked the space he said so you can read it like a poem or the transcript of a lie. Calvin Holder lives in Gloucestershire where he is much affected by...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 30, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
Last Thursday in November Together Since 1957 Four newest mangy old dogs, done being punished for yesterday’s quasi-traditional jockeying to grab what they may have thought of as their fair share, one of several home-grown free range cooked...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 29, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
The Crossing Isn’t it too late? I couldn’t help asking myself time and again. It was too late: the sun was gone, my chance had left; there was only one way, and I’d have no say. I washed my hands in the stream and warmed them with my breath; I saw...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 28, 2020 | Featured, Poetry
January January’s a recent graduate: cheap suit, polyester or nylon, some shiny fabric. New to the team. Golden handshake. Keen to get its teeth into something. Loads of ideas how to improve things, make the place run more smoothly. Has an eye on...
