Katrina Kaye
I am dripping,
bent over shell and broken back.
A flutter of promises,
hopes I was never given but
manifested in my spine just the same,
emerge and take shape.
I am told what I have formed
is somehow
good enough.
It is not
good enough.
I desire the simplicity;
I want so much less
than what I have become.
I never asked for these wings.
“Hatch” is previously published in Fevers of the Mind (2022).
Katrina Kaye
These flowers are not so bright
to drain radiance from your smile.
They are not so strange
to make you appear ordinary;
They accent your wink and playful smirk,
as they lace delicate fingernails.
They speak of the coming spring
and your role in blooming.
Like you, they have a story of hope which
I long to hear. Like you, they hold my gaze
and breath for a moment longer than
I expected or should have allowed.
If only you held onto those petals
a bit longer and with a bit more care,
if only you knew what the promise of spring
could bring to the heart of this old woman.
“These Flowers” is previously published in Hazy Expression (2004).
Katrina Kaye
Night is
a tapestry
hung over
shoulders,
rough wool
against
brown skin.
I feel you,
arms around
my body,
a cradle
of green
and gold.
“Armor” is previously published in Saturday’s Sirens (2020).
Iron & Sulfur 
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