Hatch

Katrina Kaye

I am dripping,
bent over shell and broken back.

A flutter of promises,

hopes I was never given but
manifested in my spine just the same,

emerge and take shape.

I am told what I have formed

is somehow
good enough.

It is not
good enough.

I desire the simplicity;
I want so much less
than what I have become.

I never asked for these wings.

“Hatch” is previously published in Fevers of the Mind (2022).

Meadow

Katrina Kaye

the meadow has gone
like all things eventually do

childhood playground
prey to constant foot falls
and shifts of flood to drought

the numb of night wanes
long stalks of mild green
into wilt and waste

the scorch of day evaporates
morning dew from slick leaves of grass

it always seemed safe here

somehow perpetual

but this world is volatile

it is always taking;

turning what is
into what was

heaven dries in the heat
and heaves into wasteland

magic is dissected into
practical parts and disappears

children lose their fairy wings
and become merely human

“Meadow” is previously published in Saturday’s Sirens (2021).

Katrina Kaye

I’ve been missing you
by a quarter of a mile
in all directions.

I blame the wind
or the rain,
but never your speed.

I call out
without expecting reply
and take comfort in
the echo of myself.

It is better if
I don’t know
you are there,
an inch out of range,
a moment out of site.

It is better
I keep missing you.

“Missing you” is previously published in the collection A Scattering of Imperfections (2009) by Casa de Snapdragon.