Transformation

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

unlike clouds and the ripples of river currents
we still resemble our former identities
long after we have transformed into something else

sometimes the shift is so slow
we don’t even realize the change until long after it occurs

nature is much more abrupt in the turning of season
the molding of weather patterns and swings of daylight
she doesn’t always have that much patience and
what she does have she saves for mountain ranges

we are somewhere between the rock and the raindrop
realizing our transformation only in retrospection

“Transformation” is previously published in Amazine (2025).

Available Now – September 22, 2026

Click Here to Order All It Is

Belly

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I am lying still and holding my belly in my hands. I am trying to hold myself together by holding myself. I am trying to catch myself before I fall over and my insides fall to the ground. I hold myself together by holding myself.

My belly is soft and round, swollen with indecision and promises yet to be fulfilled. I am unable to feel the warmth I know is inside me. I am unable to touch, but I can hold, so I hold.

I hold myself together with hands that are too swollen to grasp, knotted with arthritis, useless to do anything but hold. My breath comes in long, drawn movements. No sudden changes. There is no storm over this ocean, only the roll of steady wave.

It would be so easy for the tide to pull me apart. To separate limbs, spread fingers, pluck each hair from body, loosen teeth from gum line. The water takes not only breath, but strength. But I can still touch my hand to belly. I can still hold myself. I can still hold myself together. I can still hold myself.

“Belly” is previously published in Shadowplay (2025).

Helpless

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

This is the third day
I have crossed the shady bridge
connecting woodland road to freeway,
and the squirrel is still there. 

Its white belly bloated skyward,
rodent mouth agape with
bucked teeth displayed, 
crippled foot poked with bones
emerging from fur cover.

 If I was home, I would bury the body.
Place what was left in shallow grave,
say a word of passing, but I am not home. 

I am a thousand miles from the comforts I know.
I am shovelless and I mourn that which I cannot change
as I watch the rot, helpless to the decay. 

I am observer only,
unable to partake 

to act
to initiate change 

unable to do more than witness.

It is not unlike the tragedy that
flashes our screens relentlessly,
the yelps from Mother Earth as she
floods and shakes and burns to the
hate and greed that continues to
overwhelm the hearts of men.

The differences we are told we can
make are so small, so fragile, and so
easily undone. They seem near nonexistent and,
like caring about a dead squirrel on the side of the road,
do not change anything.

I am helpless
to do anything more than watch
as our world, once alive and
strong and beautiful,

continues to decompose.  

 

 

Available Now – September 22, 2026

Click Here to Order All It Is