by Helen Ivory | May 17, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Infestation my house is full of purple buzzing bumblebees and tigers laying on the ceiling friends they ask me how I’m dealing with this stressful situation what’s with their morbid fascination? these purple buzzing bumblebees and tigers...
by Helen Ivory | May 16, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Perspective O mother moon vicious eyelash in velvet unblinking judgemental bitch. I can stare at you ‘til morning makes you crayon I can hide you in a forest by moving an inch Don’t think I have no purpose or beauty You make monochrome I am...
by Helen Ivory | May 15, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Unseen, But Here My autistic son has wings of shadow. I see them when he stands in sunlight; they blossom behind him like dark clots. He giggles under the full sun and a crown of glare anoints him. He stands on the cracks of the pavement holding the...
by Helen Ivory | May 14, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Snuff Shakespeare Banquo is dead. Zipped inside a body bag, ringed by Zimmer frames. [Here comes more sugar for the shock. Sweet tea clouds hang.] What will they do now? He’s been lifted up like a rolled up carpet and put on a trolley, the...
by Helen Ivory | May 13, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Home furnishings Sensing revelation on the fifth floor, she reaches – self-defensively – for tools and next, she is all pocket: the more combed the colder, while at her toes a little pool of not-this, not-that flotsam...
