Kaye

Daughter

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

She swims inside fingerprints,
an idea so distinctly you.
A mirage reflected between hot streets
and flattering moonlight.

She is the dancer in my wooden box,
guardian of secrets whispering her own;

I would be lying if I didn’t say
you haunt me from her eyes.
A memory of water in my desert.
Just an illusion of your fingers
tracing the lifeline in right palm.

She blends ribbons of perfume through the air
and insists she invented this for our pleasure,
but we both know better.

“Daughter” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).

Melody

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Katrina Kaye

In the face
of absolute beauty
I find helplessness

forfeit.

It makes me want to
give up all I know,

all I am,

everything.

I am not a creator,

I am witness bystander.
I am stripped blind,

groping cold in darkness.

I am undeserving
of such light,
and powerless in
its presence.

Truly,
if there was a god,

is a god,

if there is light,

it is in melody,

I settle in awe,
sulk to silence unable to discern
the transcendence of song,

words mean so little.

“Melody” previously published in the collection, my verse…, published by Swimming with Elephants Publications, LLC in 2012.

Photograph

/ Katrina Kaye / 2 Comments

Katrina Kaye

We were captured
black and white,
careless grins
flyaway hair,
back when it was easy
to love
only each other.

Strange how pure
a photograph can be.

If that picture wasn’t
black and white
it would showcase your hair,
red orange
like phoenix feathers,

the straps of green dress
emerald against skin
too white to have ever been
stroked by sunlight.

Instead of all those shades of grey,
you would have been
bright, star shine;
the amber of eyes,
reckless flecks of gold
against locks of flame
surrounding temples;
painted red lips
upon raw teeth
creating a smile too big
to hide the laughter
brimming from throat.

I can’t help but think of the face
I left there.
Smeared smile in
black and white.

The way you looked at me.
The moment
cut
captured.

I was oblivious of your
lashes and longing.
Helpless to the inevitable
fading of photographs.

You were crafted to sparkle.
I was too blinded by
your brilliance to notice
your eyes
only for me.

“Photograph” is previously published in The fall of a Sparrow (2014).