Katrina Kaye
kill darlings
again;
hang them by the neck,
swing
from old oak in evening breeze.
leave them
out to dry,
skin stretch against rocks
reflect sun’s heat as they bleach to leather.
split silence with their scream.
It is the only way to wash clean.
“Again” is previously published in Chasing Rabbits (2016).
Katrina Kaye
When the sky is black
against the shine of full belly moon,
I hear your call.
You grin yellow nicotine teeth,
breathing smoke from last night
when the harvest moon
caught you in mind leap.
Sometimes I think
I am the only person in
the world who longs for
the jaundice of the night’s sky,
who wants to wrap myself
in the foul yellow glow
you spread as invitation.
I wade waist deep
into the bright of black
and trace your fleeing form
with eyes too often
closed to the wonder
of full moon.
You have a way of
insisting on more than
what my fingertips can
ever reach so I merely
watch, hold my breath,
keep your silence.
It is what you love
about me.
‘Rabbit Moon” is previously published at La Luna – Visions of the Moon at Tortuga Gallery (2020).
Katrina Kaye
It is important
to know
how to fall.
The ability to
stitch a net out
of eyelash and
torn paperback,
to catch,
to survive,
to go on,
is more vital
than perching
impassive on
mountain peak
or slumbering
in the shade
of pine tree.
It is important
to know how
fast the world
is set to change.
and yet recognize
all the ways it stays
the same.
One man’s action
is limited to the
reach of his arm.
His fall,
only a tragedy
to those who
stood by and
could not help.
Only a tragedy
to those who did
not see him
rise again.
“Fall” is previously published on Spillwords (2023)
Chasing Rabbits 
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