Dido

Katrina Kaye

It was an accident.

I was not a broken woman
the day you left.
I still had the strength to carry
every remnant of our war
toward pyre.

But as I dragged
your scent from my house,
dress snagged on the shield
you left in your stead,
held me down,
pulled me into hot flames,
trapped me,

and I knew as soon
as the soft fabric of dress bloomed
with orange teeth,
you had not truly let me go.

You never intended me to live
without you.

“Dido” is previously published in Spillwords (2023).

Cora

Katrina Kaye

he changed
my name, mother

he painted my
hair red and left
my skin to pale
hidden from the
childish strokes
of the sun

with mother’s strings
no longer to bind me
I found a comfort in the
shadow of his kindness

for three months
I hid in the back rooms
knowing full well
the sun was shinning

mother,
did you realize
this ripening fruit was
unplucked

In your absence

I fell from vine

“Cora” is previously published in the Black Poppy Review (2021).

Katrina Kaye

I hold the seeds
between my teeth,

squeeze till the
slightest of juices

eases on tongue.
The tart slip

of liquid tastes
nothing of hell.

“Persephone” is previously published in Trouvaille Review (2021).