Poetry

White Gardenias

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

Gardenia petals
tossed off the balcony,
only to be crushed
under the heels of black boots.

One more opportunity
to show the difference
between white and ruin,
and yet when the bomb drops
we find ourselves
creeping toward windows
in hopes of a better view
to ease the curiosity
panting on our tongues.

The hunger is obscene,
but I no longer crave the sugar
I used to savor.

Curled into myself,
I feel no anger or madness,
just the repeated pitter patter
of the drops from window;
a constant reminder
that on this side of the world
mold consumes in darkness.

“Post Euphoria” is previously published in Fevers of the Mind (2022) and Otherwise Engaged (2022).

Terms of Endearment

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I didn’t mean
to call you darling,
but there is comfort
in the way
your body slumps
onto mine;

a foolishness
about your long,
thin arms holding
on to me, that
makes me think
these terms of
endearment are
acceptable for us,
for now, for tonight.

So I call you my
darling, allow your
body to drape over me,
and don’t resist the urge
to pick the flecks of leaves
from your hair.

Dido

/ Katrina Kaye

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).