Katrina Kaye
Every night
I save you
in a hundred
different ways.
I say the
right thing;
I turn a
different corner;
I catch you.
Every night,
I bring past
to present and
relive that
last day,
only different.
I take the
gun from your
hand; I answer
the phone.
I listen,
just listen.
Every night
I am there
instead of here.
I stop
it from
happening.
Every night,
in most
precious
imagination,
I become
your champion.
“Champion” is previously published in Rabbits for Luck (2016).
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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.
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Katrina Kaye
On days like this
I feel like the pills
stopped working, that
I need a higher
dose and I consider
calling my doctor,
saying I can’t
get out of bed, saying
there is nothing
here for me.
On days like this,
I hug friends for no
reason and don’t let go.
My dog’s brown eyes make
me cry when I have no time
to take him for a walk,
and I think I need a
new prescription,
to call someone,
to disappear for a while.
On days like this,
on days like this,
I think of my mother
and how she has made it
through days like this.
I must make it too.
On days like this,
on days like this,
I think of the clever words
I should have written
in bathroom stalls
in big, black sharpie marker.
I think about what
I should have said
the last time we met
and how that moment is
forever gone.
On days like this,
On days like this,
I think of the woman driving
the bus the same age as me
and wonder if she’s happy.
I think of lost marbles
and pens that never
had a chance
to run out of ink.
I think about the rock
not pretty or special enough
to be collected and
the way the world ends
when you die.
I think of the promises
I made to myself and
the silence that came
when I broke them.
On days like this,
on days like this,
on days like this,
I don’t know if I can
make another day
like this.
“On days like this” is previously published in Light as a Feather First Edition (2014) and Saturday’s Sirens (2022).
Chasing Rabbits 
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