Poetry

Rabbit Moon

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

When the sky is black
against the shine of full belly moon,
I hear your call.

You grin yellow nicotine teeth,
breathing smoke from last night
when the harvest moon
caught you in mind leap.

Sometimes I think
I am the only person in
the world who longs for
the jaundice of the night’s sky,
who wants to wrap myself
in the foul yellow glow
you spread as invitation.

I wade waist deep
into the bright of black
and trace your fleeing form
with eyes too often
closed to the wonder
of full moon.

You have a way of
insisting on more than
what my fingertips can
ever reach so I merely
watch, hold my breath,
keep your silence.

It is what you love
about me.

‘Rabbit Moon” is previously published at La Luna – Visions of the Moon at Tortuga Gallery (2020).

Reclaim

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

begin with
a soft kiss,
the kind
you know
he likes.
linger there
let him know
there is
no hurry.
there is
no where
either
of you
need to be,
not now,
not yet.
when he
attempts
to continue
watching the
morning news,
creep up
beside him,
purr like the
insistent feline
you are,
kneed his
thighs with
long fingers,
block his view.
when he
suddenly
grabs you
and twists
your body
across his,
let him.
let him
touch.
let him
explore.
know at
this point,
you have
won.

“Reclaim” is previously published in Rabbits for Luck (2016).

Fall

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

It is important
to know
how to fall.

The ability to
stitch a net out
of eyelash and
torn paperback,

to catch,
to survive,
to go on,

is more vital
than perching
impassive on
mountain peak

or slumbering
in the shade
of pine tree.

It is important
to know how
fast the world
is set to change.

and yet recognize
all the ways it stays
the same.

One man’s action
is limited to the
reach of his arm.
His fall,

only a tragedy
to those who
stood by and

could not help.
Only a tragedy
to those who did
not see him

rise again.

“Fall” is previously published on Spillwords (2023)