by Helen Ivory | Apr 25, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
A Few Regrets He was from somewhere close to inhospitable – the north of Russia, maybe. His act involved tearing guests from middle aisles and inserting them into backless chairs. He would pitch his waxed palms sideways and dribble towards the...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 24, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Hallway I can’t imagine how it must have been: my sudden, sticky fists, my turbulence, my fretful sleep. The constant interruptions, the mess, the uncontrollable outpour of love like a reflex, a weeping wound. And then the years, hurling...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 23, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Adoration in the Catalina Foothills Below this crest of stillness in a mid-winter evening of hard frost and grim-wrought gray, I’m an indecent animal, dying sadly in the briefest moments on a road meant for misfits and outlaws. Barely a vapor exists—...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 22, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Qin The pairs of passing seagulls echoed each other. Egrets (in twos) watched their shadows from the shore. Last night my lover brought me oysters on ice cold and sharp with salt and chilli. They sat in my stomach wet and heavier than water. I threw my...
by Helen Ivory | Apr 21, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Melon Picker Death touched your feet with its wing. It felt how you cut the cord, carried their boulder warmth from the lip of the leaf to the gut of the bowl. Every time the wind disturbed a shock of trees the dry light eclipsed your vision. You would...
