by Helen Ivory | Aug 15, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Liebestod i.m. Keith Dawson Snapping the louvres shut against the night I brush against the sculpture you once owned – The Citizen, a muscled hero, naked except for a belted skin around the loins. He reminded you, perhaps, of nights you’d spent...
by Helen Ivory | Aug 14, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
What’s in a Name? I watched as the car pulled off one last time the magic trick of making you disappear, wheels drove the lines from where we waited counting up under blinking LED numbers anxiously red and trying to hold papers their...
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...
