Katrina Kaye

Allow a streak of light
from single bulb hallway
to lay across the floor.

Remind me, in this mild action,
there are heroes in the world,
not every action is based on
the selfish hunger of men.

On nights like this
the rocks of the world
lay heavy on my spine,
pinning me to an earth
I have no desire to inherit.

Let me hear the voices
down the hall. The influx
in cadence regardless of meaning,
the occasional laugh.

I am again
five years old asleep in
a stranger’s house feeling
no desire to resume the
party but comforted to know
it continues.

Leave the door cracked,
just enough, so I’ll know
when the house rings silent,
when the hall light finally dims
that I am completely alone.

“Father” is previously published in Chariot Press (2022). Talon (2022), and Greatest City Diary (2022).