by Helen Ivory | Mar 1, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Communion the body breaks: feed it to itself at least once in seven days. wine is optional; water slakes the skin’s dull cry, pours clear cool across eyelids & down throats. sing to the tiles, sing to the ones who hurt you. comb your hair...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 27, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Afternoon on the A658 The sun’s not to be seen but it’s diffusing everywhere, the whole sky lamp lit, the storm clouds glowing grey like rainbows waiting to happen. Stravinsky’s stabbing from the stereo, and, right on cue, a corps de ballet of...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 26, 2019 | 2019 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
Cockroach I began when the cockroach fell the cockroach was on the ceiling the ceiling was in a hospital the hospital was in a city and the cockroach on the ceiling fell underneath the ceiling and the cockroach were my mother and her belly and...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 25, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
After the Work is Done Wood-warm tools muddied, scraped and set aside, a pleasant ache lingers in my joints. I lounge on my shed’s tilted porch, waiting for the first flickers of life. Sun on my belly slick as a rain-battered tulip. I am scrapes,...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 24, 2019 | Prose & Poetry
Emily Says Mornings in Haworth begin with church bells Emily appears again while the tourists are still finding the schoolhouse, Finding the tea rooms and gift shops Finding the chapel and grave. “There are always dogs barking here,” she says...
by Helen Ivory | Feb 23, 2019 | 2019 poetry picks, Prose & Poetry
from Wintering 1 Things are hunkering down. Roots burrow deep, nosing among the winter nests, the curled fur and trembling antennae. The seed lie snug in the earth’s closed fist. Complete darkness. And a heat that’s miserly, generating just enough...
