Romantic

Rain

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

I wake at 2:37am
Tuesday morning,
all knees and elbows
reveling in the sound
of your late summer storm.
I feel that clap of thunder
in my hipbones,
inhale the flash of light
in the cage that holds
my impatient heart.

I’m thinking of how it might feel
to have you next to me in this downpour.
Your hands on my body
displayed in the night’s electricity.
The rhythm of you
like sheets of hail beating my skin.

I conjure,
at 2:37am,
your moisture spreading
along the line of my clavicle,
your thumbs dripping into the
flesh of my thighs.

I imagine your violence
drenching me,
spit and splash as I
soak into you.
You collect my hair,
moist from your shower,
sweep it from my body,
revealing soft flesh underneath.
The condensation of your lips
caress the back of my neck,
fingers tap ripples against my spine,
something about the rain at 2:37am.

The storm doesn’t hold back.
It is unleashed, wild and primitive,
and I picture the rise and fall,
the beat of you,
the growl and flash,
reflected in hungry gestures
before you move on,
leaving remnants of your tempest
dripping from my window ledge.

“Rain” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014) and as a performance piece on Youtube from the 2012 ABQ Indie City Poetry Slam Championship.

Photograph

/ Katrina Kaye / 2 Comments

Katrina Kaye

We were captured
black and white,
careless grins
flyaway hair,
back when it was easy
to love
only each other.

Strange how pure
a photograph can be.

If that picture wasn’t
black and white
it would showcase your hair,
red orange
like phoenix feathers,

the straps of green dress
emerald against skin
too white to have ever been
stroked by sunlight.

Instead of all those shades of grey,
you would have been
bright, star shine;
the amber of eyes,
reckless flecks of gold
against locks of flame
surrounding temples;
painted red lips
upon raw teeth
creating a smile too big
to hide the laughter
brimming from throat.

I can’t help but think of the face
I left there.
Smeared smile in
black and white.

The way you looked at me.
The moment
cut
captured.

I was oblivious of your
lashes and longing.
Helpless to the inevitable
fading of photographs.

You were crafted to sparkle.
I was too blinded by
your brilliance to notice
your eyes
only for me.

“Photograph” is previously published in The fall of a Sparrow (2014).

Enamored

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

Kiss my cheek,
a stolen stroke.
The one on the lips,
an enticing request.

I know well the metallic
taste of boundaries.
This mouth,
often denied its hunger.

But tonight,
I am too drunk,
too enamored.
I want to give you a thimble:
memento of me.
Press it in your hand
till it marks your skin.
A subtle indentation,
a tangible reminder,
like the leather I wear
around my ankle,
of the kiss I’ve given.

We could slink into bed,
feel tongue, teeth, tickle.
Your hand on my spine,
salty sweat on navel,
thumb to hip bone.

Or we can just lay beside each other,
my arm draped across your body.
Fingertips graze jawbone,
lips skim fine hairs on shoulder.
We can pretend we are lovers.

Either way,
you will not see me in the morning.
I would like the night to be,
and although it would be sweet,
to retongue last goodbyes
and reform promises,

some revisions aren’t meant to be made.
Some words shouldn’t be taken back.

“Enamored” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014) and Connotation Press (2013).