by Helen Ivory | Aug 27, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Seeing in Colour Canvasses rotting behind the shed An ochre sky, the sharp stink of linseed on a rag The temper of blood on white tiles A coffin glossed with slick tints of autumn leaves in oils Art is not what you see but what you make others see. Where...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 26, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Starve yourself I sit on my bed eating leftover soup from microwaved tupperware to stave off a dizzy spell. The plastic is discoloured from re-heating baked beans. I use a teaspoon so it takes longer, takes more mouthfuls. It’s a trick I learned....
by Helen Ivory | Aug 25, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Fred Mr Davis kept tropical fish and a tidy garden front and back. It’s as good as fertilizer that he said, throwing his urine from a bucket on the lawn. He rolled grizzled Rizlas with the fingers of one hand. Showed me places on a map where he...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 24, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Blood Displaces Water Paola opens stitches on the cuff of her wrist. An efficient seamstress, she works on fine silver scars. She cuts with precision, but there’s danger in her strokes. She leans over the basin. A feather of pink...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 23, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Good Night Mum liked quiet children, silent bodies, no vomiting, no wheezing I knew how to breathe through an upset stomach but asthma came at night uninvited, a whistle-blower in my lungs telling my throat to snap shut. To avoid being kept awake...
