by Helen Ivory | Aug 13, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
sooner or later sooner or later i’ll have to tell about him about the baby and the way its hair is red and muddy, like fox fur or a silent night, the type we used to have when we liked to rub our thighs together and drink deep, warm coffee. i’ll...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 12, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Seven Tanka he’s a beauty, the great big spider crawling the wall above the rattle of computer keys * spring has come, the ants carry it into my kitchen on their backs * at work I find more wrappers from stolen CDs stuffed into...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 11, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Books I kept the room as it was the polychrome spines of books doing all the talking taking the company of hardbacks down from the crowded shelf I nudged a bookstop (a solid black African head) which fell and smashed there is more to life...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 10, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
The Goddammit Well “How long did it take yuh, Ted?” his wife asked. Her name was Martha. She was hard-toothed as pure donkey. “Long ‘nuf” he answered in a wheeze of breath. “Changed her tire was all, Martie. Told her to git to Benny’s first thing...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 9, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Serial Monogamy It is snowing heavily but the train arrives on time. A man gets on and walks through the carriages. They are close and hot. He is looking for an empty seat. He finds one with a table, unhooks his daybag, takes off his fleece. He...
