Month: March 2021

Wine Glass

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I position his arms around my body
so they hold me like you used to
when we wedged into the twin bed
in your basement studio all those years ago.

I needed only to have you beside me,
to cure the cramp in my gut and
the crackle in my throat.

You are gone,
so I use him.

A restless boy with too much to prove,
who has your height but not your eyes,
who makes me laugh like you once did and
likes to watch me although I am looking away.

I shatter myself into him.
Useless in this skin,
I seek the soul beneath.

It only broke my heart a little when he left,
no more than a wine glass forgotten
on the floor crushed under the klutz of
an early morning stumble toward bath.

“Wine Glass” is previously published in September (2014).

I come to you

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I come to you
warm and bleeding.
Raw and unbleached.

A slice across Achilles tendon,
unfelt shave of skin
that gushes ripe,
and drips footprints across
your Persian rug.
An invitation to follow.

I come with tact in hand,
spotting handshake,
staining interwoven lifelines.
The kindness presented to me
stabbed through palm.

In anticipation of your cold hands
and medicinal lips,
I offer a sun burn across my thighs.
A collection of rain drops
held tight in Mason jar.

I bring rose gardens
guarded by chain link fence
and two rows of razor wire,

an empty bottle
with my lipstick on the neck,
a cloche spouting sparrow feathers,
a jockey’s whip,
and an ex lover’s name
tattooed on skin that has
never seen the heat of flame.

You never ask where I’ve been;

You tend scratches,
recite a romance of battle
with gravel in your throat.
Show me two broken ribs,
and a bootleg audio of a concert
I was too drunk to remember.

You reciprocate generosity
with lean strokes of your stare
across my worse for wear face,

and whisper how my split nails,
calloused heels, and reckless speech
made you a better man.

“I come to you” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).

Badge

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I thought I was ready for
the collision of tooth to chest,
so I waited for bullet to light up sky,
patient for barrage to shatter my
faith in you.

I apologize for letting you gut
me in the fashion of an animal.

I am left with a scar dug into flesh.
A badge flashing from right shoulder,
which you ignore every time you
brush past.

“Badge” is previously published in September (2014).