my heart

Katrina Kaye

with apologies to Stephen Crane

he said it was 
my heart
but I
ate of it regardless

devoured each
drop with desperate
truth over sour

I did not recognize
the taste as my own

my heart
when consumed
becomes part of me

and yet
and yet and yet and yet
my stomach does not fill

I remain malnourished
and I know only hollow

I slip inside cocoon
a meditation

all eyes 
look the same and I 
boil in fever

the rage passes and I am a 
railroad eager
to travel the transatlantic

eager to bypass
all the minutia 
that makes up the
daily toil

it is not logical
to traffic in wants,
but I am so hungry

I will mortgage 
my future for the satisfaction
of a kind word and
a precious moment.

let me wrap you in the chill
of morning

and offer up a bite
or two


“my heart” is previously published in Scissortail Quarterly (2020).


Katrina Kaye

We forgot
how to touch.
Our bodies
merely go
through motion.

The pulse
and flex;
it is
too much.
It is
not enough.

You sleep
beside me,
only a
whisper away,
yet I can’t
what your hands
feel like
on my body.

I like to
tell myself,
it is easy to
fall back into

But these
pieces have
turned jagged,
rough to touch.

On nights
like this,
I prefer to
sleep alone.

“Pieces” is previously published in September (2014).


Katrina Kaye

You said,

take what
I want
and leave
the key
under the mat.

But as I stand
leaning on
front door frame,

I see
that belongs
to me.

I leave the
key in the
door and
walk east
and stare
into rising sun

how many
steps it will
take to forget
your name.

“east” is previously published in Weasel Press (2022) and Introspection Quarterly (2022)..