by Helen Ivory | Mar 15, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Bird of Prey Mami, I find myself wishing your memory were a bird of prey— red-tailed hawk or black vulture, just as long as the talons dig, long as edges curve into outstretched fingers. Oh to pierce through that final blur, I’d prize any...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 14, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
One Winter’s Line Between underpants and saggy bra, she hangs her fallopian tubes out to dry. They dangle like a pair of tan tights, dancer’s legs in the wind. She bends, reaches inside the basket, mistakes her vagina for an old sock. She...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 13, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
Night night knocks inside my dream at the end of the world death house where sawdust covers everything. i am fortified with evening rubble. there are even rooms that repeat themselves as poor excuses or after-dinner cigarillos in a bag of night...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 12, 2024 | Featured, Prose
Pleasing Evelyn Battersby Evelyn Battersby was a difficult woman to please, an easy one to disappoint. When her children brought their gifts on silver salvers she would sniff, wrinkle her nose, send them back to the kitchen. The paintings of...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 11, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
If you’re asking how to get invited If you’re asking how to get invited To draw at a sex club It’s fair to say You’ll never get invited to draw at a sex club But here’s a tip: try to board a bus, Get sandwiched in the closing doors Because the driver hasn’t...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 10, 2024 | Featured, Poetry
After learning about the maternal instincts of seals, I took to listing postpartum offensives a hen pecks a king cobra a wildebeest confronts a cheetah five lions are attacked by a ballistic giraffe a monitor lizard suffers a wild pig bite a...
