Katrina Kaye

You are uninvited;
bitter against lips,
rash over skin,
sleep talk and night sweats
forbidding mindful rest.

Your voice molds over me,
a battle of syntax,
an iron cast conceived
in a stretched mind
and firmly planted feet.

Syllables wrap
thin ropes around
outstretched fingers.

The tongue,
so strong.

This pop of shoulder,
this curse word and collection
of false stories,
they are not meant for you.
I only spit them
in surprise of your presence,
eager to remain pacified
against determination.

You’re here now,
without warning.
The best kind
of unexpected guest.

I am ready for
slink and slither,
praying on revolution
like a forgotten religion,
words on pagan moon,
animal inside human covering.

Become claws and creature,
reptile and remarkable.

Come,
I’ve already let you in.

“Uninvited” is previously published in Roi Faineant Literary Press (2021) and They Don’t Make Memories Like That Anymore (2011).