Iron and Sulfur

Now Available: No Longer Water by Katrina Kaye

/ Katrina Kaye

It’s finally here!

Pick up a copy of my newest chapbook released from Echobird Press!

No Longer Water is a collection of poems welcoming raw emotion regarding the process of aging mindfully into a truer self. Here, aging is regarded as a gift rather than a burden. In particular, a woman’s personal journey from who she once was to who she is now. With growth, either physical or mental, there are aches and discomforts that hurt to the core. This collection allows the aches to blossom. Discomforts become fuel to grow without outside influence. The speaker is no longer looking outwardly but inwardly. In this journey through poetry, there is a momentous shift where the mind, body, and soul understands both the trials and challenges of maturity, along with the rewards. Ultimately, life is a gift. The journey is tranquil, enlightened, and blessed, even if the trail is muddy.

Follow this link to order directly from the publisher (the price is cheaper than Amazona and B&N). My book, no longer water, is in the lowest row.
https://echobirdpress.com/shop/

Echobird Press Bookstore

407353256_10159289155192447_279905321250779040_nhttps://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/book/1144391273

Soundtrack

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

You prefer to listen to my soundtrack:

my sigh at your touch,
the chords of gasp curse moan prayer,
the rhythm of my laughter.

The pulse of your lips on bare shoulder
sends a harmony throughout my body.

I continue to interlace my notes with yours,
eager to wrap my coda around you,
hold you tight inside this melody of morning.

I purr for you,
a vibration between skin and bone.
The treble of your embrace hums
inside the length of my octave.

It’s a tempo in my shoulder blades,
the meter in a Monday morning
and a half night’s sleep,
residing in the throat of me.

I hold my song still,
take my heart off my tongue
and put it in the drawer by my bed.

The cadence of our time together
is still rattling against exposed skin,
though your lips sing static.

You embedded a beat inside me
and left your refrain to reverberate
between spine and sternum,
long after the music died.

“Soundtrack” is previously published in They Don’t Make Memories like that Anymore (2011).

When We Were Dying

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

We pay little attention
to the throbs as the
strychnine clenches backbones,

leaving us partially immobile
in the pain of descent.
The three of us lay in a triad,

trying to see faces in the sky.
Only a few hours ago,
the stars had so much

to say, but now they sit,
shimmering silently.
We are dirty and exhausted.

Our bodies expelling
poison through pores
opening up to the dawn.

But, somehow, we don’t
feel as alive as we did
when we were dying.

“When We Were Dying” is previously published in Leonardo Literary Magazine (2005).