Katrina Kaye
left to
the wind
of autumn
her hair
turns
white,
grows long
unruly
pays no
mind to the
twist of
time,
the thorns
threaten
the bells
which no
longer chime
and yet
there is
still so
much music
“Crone” is previously published in Spillwords (2021).
Katrina Kaye
Forever might last
only a matter of seconds
in the right hands.
It might last a night
of shadow and fog and
a chill in the air.
Forever is the five years
we spent pushing and
pulling together.
From the moment you found
your place at my side
to the last night you laid beside me.
So heavy, so still.
The weight of the world
pinning you to mattress.
The rise and fall of your body
a tender reminder
that this is forever.
And I am afraid of forever,
the commitment to sun and earth,
the permanence of it;
the way it does not negotiate
or offer resolve.
The curse of continuance.
Forever we hold our flags,
white and half mast
howling to a moon
that ceases to be despite how
we know it will forever
be there.
“Forever” is previously published by The Wild Word (2024).
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).
Chasing Rabbits 
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