by Helen Ivory | Mar 12, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
Rib Picking You are seventeen, You are beautiful, and you Are the engine of life. Levelled on the hillside, Somehow upright, white-washed Wind-torn weather rock Mid morning and like it’s been Recently, I’m up and nested At the window, the land glows at this...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 11, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
She’s nice, her. Not wanting. Some guy had said, not long into the exchange – although this was only worked out later with the help of a free online translation service. It had been guessed at the time – by the shift in his eye, the comma of a...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 10, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
After the Storm Wading knee-deep for six-pack and cigarettes I watch my feet, three inches from my knees, under a foot of water negotiate the curb. They look like two fish hugging the tarmac bottom, trying to turn some silt onto themselves. Their...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 9, 2017 | Prose & Poetry
When The Trouble Comes it comes illiterate reading Soldier of Fortune magazine, but always to church on time, in its Sunday best, praying for world peace, it comes bearing gifts from the dollar store, shit you never wanted, like a severed head on...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 8, 2017 | 2017 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Stranger I’ll ask the Moon to do my dirty work. In the backwash I wonder if the Welsh God with his untidy name, painted her. I’m the colour of the rock. I’ll be a moon-glowing witch, with cloud-hands getting slowly drunk, as I shrink out of the...
