by Helen Ivory | Sep 4, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Stick Dance I’m caked in history, upside down on your street, my silhouette cutting singers in black and white, dizzy between the trees, amassing description. I come clean, blow a path through talcum powder and cheap hotel bars of soap, use...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 3, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Writing About War How do you write about a war? The answer is simple. You don’t. Instead, you write about men walking in a line. It is a long line, with many men, and the men walk one step behind another. Near the back of the line,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 2, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Tunes Next to the cattle market A long alleyway room, where electric looking chairs waited. Tunes the barbers. ‘Right to the bone’ he would order. I sat quietly, as the snipping teeth bumped along. Tractor chugging graders ran through,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 1, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Mother and the Mortgage Mother is like a nervous yet overly positive mouse and since I moved away, it’s just been her and my sister in that huge, half-empty house. They play arts and crafts most days and my sister sleeps away afternoons like a cat...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 30, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
My Mother Visits the Dissection Room She said she wanted to go there. So I pulled some strings, read her the rules. “Sensible shoes?” she said. “Yes Mother. Plus clothes you don’t mind ruined. Fixers, they don’t wash out. The smell will get you,...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 29, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Therapy Time This time after the morning rituals for the day, you turn your back, button your blouse, no glimpse of even your bra. New maneuver. I can tell that you are looking for words, but don’t know how to find them, like crows pecking at eyes...
