Ever After

Katrina Kaye

A lighthouse does not shine every day,
only when the fog is thick
and the storm is rough;

once the waves subside, it returns
dormant and dark.

I regret not having this knowledge
the night you stumbled upon my shore.

I realize now how one can leave their home,
yet always keep it with them.
I have learned one can fall madly in love,
yet still keep precious places sacred
for those most dear.

We have become only each other,
like children before the war,
offering momentary reprieve,
then release. The remembrance of a precious home
created in the cup of childhood.

This is how it was suppose to be.
We were not molded for the
hardship of daily existence,
we were created for relief,
for a relapse of innocence,
the comfort of old friends and first loves.

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

When I See You

Katrina Kaye

I count
from sixty;

I hold
air in lungs
and try to
stop this
involuntary reflex.
A compulsion
to fight or flight.
An urge to
lose myself
in stale memories.

I take turns
breathing life
in and out
like the moon
pulls her tides
and overlook the
heart I left
soaking in
jars of

It is easy
to reclaim the
fleeting fervor
of yesteryear
in quick anticipated
gasps held in chest.
It is best
to release
air from lungs,
count down,

“When I See You” is previously published in Rabbits for Luck (2016).

Thank You

Katrina Kaye

Thank you

for the dance in the lightning storm;
the blowing wind that chilled summer skin
and placed my hair in your eyes.

Thank you

for meeting my gaze with kindness,
laughing at my redundant jokes, and
singing along with me to the radio.

Thank you

for learning the words to my favorite song.

Thank you

for the drink on the porch
after everyone else was gone,
for the last cigarette in your pack
and the honest conversation
long after the hour of reason
when our lips say things
our minds have long hidden.

Thank you

for the reminiscence,
for just a little while, for just one night,
of precious moments long lost
to the whirl of the wind,
while the sky’s electricity screams.

Thank you

for remembering me.

Thank you

for making me
feel as though I am still loved.

But mostly,
thank you

for releasing your grip,
for letting time and space work their magic to heal
the wounds you dug into me. Thank you
for letting me go.

“Thank You” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).