No Longer

Katrina Kaye

I do not see ghosts anymore
but they are still here.
I watch them in the sparrows
I no longer have the inclination
to chase. I feel them in the music
I no longer have the patience
to memorize. I  dance with them,
but no longer remember when first
I learned the steps; I listen to their
words, though I no longer speak
their native tongue. I hear them in the drip
of the faucet late at night, the creak
of the floorboards as I pass through.
I can still feel them within this home,
these walls, this air. They remain.
The one constant I know.

“No Longer” is previously published in Rabbits for Luck (2016).


Katrina Kaye

The day you
asked me
to marry you,

I should
have broke
in two,
snapped twig,
the froth
on the mouth
of dead dog.

You were
the only
door frame left
standing amid
the rubble.

I should have
stretched out inside
the safety
you gifted me.

I should have
given you the
answer that would
mend the earth,
rebuild buildings,
stack bricks,
unscorch broken glass.

I should have
said yes.

I sent ripples
through ground.

I toppled trees,
kicked fire hydrants,
released panicked dogs
to the streets.

I should have given
you one perfect day.

Instead, I left the
ground to quake.

“Earthquake” is previously published in To Anyone Who Has Ever Loved a Writer (2014).