by Helen Ivory | Jan 18, 2016 | 2016 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Three Years The night seems friendly, almost kind. Is it because you’re here, I wonder, standing on the edge of things, your pretty toes firmly present? You do not speak. But I do. I confess my love over and over. Everything I do confesses...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 17, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Trinkets My Mother’s a lover of purple From earrings to bracelets and rings She coos at the sight of a mauve hat And various violet-y things. Her amethyst tanzanite jewelry Adorns her fingers and wrists If anyone’s wearing “her...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 16, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
May 2014 If you were rain you’d drop round every day tapping at my window like a stalker. Moon blocked with that shrouding puffa jacket. On nights like this when my drained thoughts, too dry to even steam, patter to your corner of the brain,...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 15, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
The Butter Paper My mother’s ghost haunts the creases of the butter paper like a child trick-or-treating in a greasy paper sheet She would have scraped and scraped it with her bone-handled knife blade whetted to tuilerie by years of use then...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 14, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
The woman with puppet hands No one ever talks of the last moments of those accused of witchery. Who knows how many went mad or Threw themselves into the river beforehand, As a means of defiance. For what would await you? Mouths open in faces you...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 13, 2016 | Prose & Poetry
Jewels During a journey of five hours as the bus powered across, Nevada appeared as a stolen stone to be polished and recut. So I stretched the skin of its sky across a scored white page, wrote the joshua trees in rows to pull out the sun in...
