Poetry

No Longer

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I do not see ghosts anymore
but they are still here.

I watch them in the sparrows
I no longer have the inclination
to chase. I feel them in the music
I no longer have the patience
to memorize. I dance with them,

but no longer remember when first
I learned the steps; I listen to their
words, though I no longer speak
their native tongue. I hear them in the drip
of the faucet late at night, the creak
of the floorboards as I pass through.

I can still feel them within this home,
these walls, this air. They remain.
The one constant I know.

“No Longer” is previously published in Rabbits for Luck (2016).

Earthquake

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

The day you
asked me
to marry you,

I should
have broke
in two,
snapped twig,
the froth
on the mouth
of dead dog.

You were
the only
door frame left
standing amid
the rubble.

I should have
stretched out inside
the safety
you gifted me.

I should have
given you the
answer that would
mend the earth,
rebuild buildings,
stack bricks,
unscorch broken glass.

I should have
said yes.

Instead,
I sent ripples
vibrating
through ground.

I toppled trees,
kicked fire hydrants,
released panicked dogs
to the streets.

I should have given
you one perfect day.

Instead, I left the
ground to quake.

“Earthquake” is previously published in To Anyone Who Has Ever Loved a Writer (2014).

Memory

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I memorized your smile
so I can find it every
time I close my eyes to dream.
The wrinkle of lip,
scar of dimple, crack of tooth.

They are with me still.

I memorized the angle of cheekbone,
every cut of skin stretched,
the soft roll of forehead.
I counted each crease embedded.
Every freckle and discoloration,
the squint of eyes and the way
they shine my reflection.

I  know these parts in your absence.

I conjure them still
on the nights when my desire
to be a good woman is broken
by the solitude of my cavity;
on nights when I close my eyes,
and let you enter my mind.

Little girls are not supposed to fall in love
with little girls and despite self taught ambivalence,
your memory lingers. I find myself a scratch
on record, set to repeat. to repeat. to repeat. to repeat.

“Memory” is previously published in #TrueStory 2015.