Poetry

Silence

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

Silence sat
still on the
corner of
cheekbone
and 12th street.

It goes unnoticed,
defies the wind,
flits the skin,
begging recognition.

It is the same
silence that
barricades the
veins with oversized
platelets causing
the heart
to cease a beat.

Creating a moment
of complete
stillness between
our bodies until

with the tip of finger
eyelash is removed
and with pursed lips,
blown away.

All it is

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

is the salty tongue

of the ocean

against my back.

All it is,
is stick on skin,

splash on hands, hair.

A taste in the
back of my throat.

All it is,
is water and sand,

debris in patterns around feet.

All it is,
is stars and a sky,

mist from yesterday’s shower,

a fragrance left to mix in the wind.

All it is,
is a breeze.

But I swear
it felt like your touch,
and this melody
of crush and curl,

I hear it
saying your words
in my ear.

All it is,
is dark,

but I swear
this night is a tapestry

hung over shoulders.
Rough wool against brown skin.

I feel you around me,

cracked hands

cradled

green and gold.

“All it is” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).

Pieces

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

We forgot
how to touch.
Our bodies
merely go
through motion.

The pulse
and flex;
it is
too much.
It is
not enough.

You sleep
beside me,
only a
whisper away,
yet I can’t
remember
what your hands
feel like
on my body.

I like to
tell myself,
it is easy to
fall back into
place.

But these
pieces have
turned jagged,
misshaped,
rough to touch.

On nights
like this,
I prefer to
sleep alone.

“Pieces” is previously published in September (2014).