by Helen Ivory | Jun 13, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
What’s Wrong with David? David does the garden. Ever since the ramp, I’ve been keeping an eye, sometimes he says to me the grass is too short or too wet to be cut. To be fair, till now he’s been the bees’ knees, as I have, finding him jobs to do...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 12, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Rome or a Room for Squatters I would if I could have a bottle or two, Sat on these streets with silly old you. I’d speak the lingo and you’d laugh Because you did not know. I’d show you travel; I’d show you culture As if unveiling a project, as if...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 11, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Invalid Leaves, like raindrops, shiver the teal pool’s surface. Airflow lifts gooseflesh on my bony arm. The woods arc up, a cavern of hushy voices. I limp and stumble on paths made veiny by roots. You take my hand, still bruised with...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 10, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
third floor walk up let’s take up a collection and have a lift put in says one neighbor as we pass on the stairs he going out for a smoke me pretending my knees are not cursing all those years genuflecting and kneeling in church. down the...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 8, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
We didn’t know we were poor Sometimes we went hungry. Mother made dandelion salad and stingy-nettle soup. Potatoes and carrots in water with salt. Mother had been on the train again to visit farmer Ruttenberger. Left our last silver flatware with...
by Helen Ivory | Jun 7, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Maggie, is that you? Lake house I feel so glacial inside of your architecture it’s like you don’t know me at all sometimes the window doesn’t let in much light as if we were always destined to meet each other in the dark taking cover the...
