by Helen Ivory | Sep 23, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Hinterland Man outside in the dark. She looked the same age as her mother. Spider in the sink. You remind me of no one. People who shouldn’t be in prison. A phone call and the night is ended. Dark eyes and a swallow’s nest. It’s...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 22, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Yellow but Moreso How odd that flowers glow. Flash that acid-bright, lens-scratching flare that sears eyes, draws drivers to turn heads and me to stand and gaze. It’s too fierce, fizzing, sharp. Too downright bright for nature. Impossibly,...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 21, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Cold Night So Far Below Disinterested Stars The indecisive rain Moved dirt around on the red car hood The way it marbled Your thoughts about me. It is a black satin morning The clouds having slipped away; I am the sidewalk Between pools of...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2018 | prizes and awards, Prose & Poetry
Honey Shot Samson knows the sound of lies and scissors, clings to some muscle he used to have. Jumping through hoops to stay alive. You don’t need to impress me. Snip, slash in a dirty flat, he gathers bottles, cans, vials, he...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
blood lemon your love smells like lemons mine like a fishing line i catch in the throat i get tangled and have to be thrown far out and into the water you clean out wounds and cause weeping people do not say their favourite smell is a fishing line...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 18, 2018 | Prose & Poetry
Hatfuls of Brass and Gold “So, that was it, there it was, that was what she gave me, when I asked something of her, when I asked for something that would be beautiful, or worth something, and she poured down, right into my hat, handfuls and hatfuls of...
