Empty

Katrina Kaye

There is a crack inside me

impossible to see         with the naked eye
because it is covered               with flesh and bone,

muscle and vein,

but underneath

all the intricacies         that have made up

this form there is         a vacant space,

a hollow.

There was a time                     I rushed to fill it,
to store people and places        and simple memories.

There was a time         when the emptiness terrified me.

People should not have                       holes.

Are we not made

            of solid stuff?

But I have made peace            with the void within.

I am no longer             afraid of the echo

of my voice.

I no longer                   seek to be filled.

Instead I sit quiet        and cross legged

feeling the shelter

that comes

from nothingness.

Within that hollow,

I can allow      eyes           to close

and  pulse                           to slow.

I can breathe deep and be;

exist,                continue.

I can find                                 peace.

I am not

limited by                    my body

or the emptiness it holds.

“Empty” is previously published in Metonym Journal (2024).

Do you remember

Katrina Kaye

the love song
I used to sing to you?
and how I meant every word,

but now I confuse the verse
with one I wrote for myself
and the words that were
on the tip of my tongue
have regressed to the
pit of my stomach.

I can’t sing for you
anymore.

The Pier

Katrina Kaye

You can see where the old pier
used to be, hundreds of water
warped posts standing at attention
in the shallow water. You can see

how low the tide has receded. They are
lost souls, blackened by time and hard
water, seething salt from tattered torsos.
They watch the beach as if they remembered

the feel of sand between their toes but
they have sulked too long, become one with
the rippling patterns. Strangers forever
separated by five distinctive feet.

“The Pier” is previously published in Chasing Rabbits (2012).