by Helen Ivory | Feb 25, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Word A word under a mountain or hid behind the woodstove. A word against deviltry, a hypothetical construction spoken by a trousered ape. A word that means something other than what it means. Graced with veins and speckles. With pieces torn out of...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 24, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
temptation Whenever he finds a spider in the house he leaves it alone but sometimes one shows up in the bedroom and his wife says “either that spider goes or I do” and at times he’s tempted to leave the damn thing right where she found it....
by Helen Ivory | Feb 23, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The Scarf This is the scarf Miranda makes. It is the scarf that she knits and knits and knits in strips of colours she picks from the current selection of wool in the hospice shop and that flows from the chest at the end of her bed down the stairs...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 22, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
The Mattress Conspiracy None of us saw it coming. It was slow and subtle. First, a lot of small stores went out of business. We wouldn’t miss them. They were tiny – nail salons, currency exchanges, party stores, boutiques, all of them...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 21, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
It Starts with Her Awkward Hairline the bit behind her ear, along the bone, I accidentally on purpose stroke as the comb starts to move freely. Her head between my knees, a kiss on her lobe — something she wouldn’t get in a salon — and fingers that look for...
