by Helen Ivory | Jan 15, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Cesare Borgia in Heaven He nods to his father, the pope, sets a velvet cushion atop a giant rose petal, and sits to savor the warm light of God. A monk in brown cassock stares. “Mind your own business,” Borgia draws his dagger, “or I’ll cut your eyes...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 14, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Stitch I thread the needle with cotton fine and purple as the lavender growing in tufts outside of our living room window. I’ve taught myself to sew in this extra time, these hours of recuperation, with little remuneration from work – statutory sick pay...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 13, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Eve and Artemisia There was absolutely no doubt about it, everyone at the galleryhad said it one time or another. “As an artist she has balls!”Yes, penis envy and the talent to do something about it. All greatwomen in history have had to overcome...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 11, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
the plunge wild flowers, earth bound ever moribund rooted to cracks in the cliff face. there they watch, blind witnesses, under starlit sky, as the girl yokes her ankle, ties the tether. the updraft lifts the heavens breath of angels fills to booming,...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 10, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Breadcrumbs My mother died on Tuesday. I am in her house. Steve, my husband, is in her kitchen making tea. I can hear the bubbling of the kettle, and warm steam seeps into the hallway along with the clatter of cups and saucers. He will be getting them...
by Helen Ivory | Jan 9, 2013 | Prose & Poetry
Eduardo’s In a restaurant made from the thin arms of a tree embracing white-washed walls, I eat strips of duck and strands of almond prepared by a stooped Belgian gentleman. A wall of glass separates me from him, and within this wall swim miniature...
