New Mexico

Alice

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

little girl
with the
blue dress

acts sad
as she
prances around
the yard

pretending fish
tell tales
and looking-glasses
hold more
than reflections

she stopped
eating
the pink
frosted cookies
when she
found out
they were
the reason
she got
so big

she stopped
digging in
the backyard
after she
realized all
the rabbits
fled their holes

she wishes
her imagination
would take
hold of
her again

instead of
teasing her
with glimpses
into what
might be

if only
she could
fall asleep
a second time

“Alice” is previously published in A Scattering of Imperfection (2009) and More Fire than Sun (2008).

Boxes

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

Surrounded by boxes:

mementos and memories,
bits of a lifetime gathered
and collected, carefully stored.

Weren’t there days
when these collections seemed too few?

Not enough good times;
not enough adventures;
not enough pictures;
not enough.

Various yesterdays mixed together
until it is impossible to tell
one apart from the next.

Is that what makes a life?
The proof of adventures once lived?

Is that enough?

And when does it become too much?

When the photo albums are full?
When the knick knacks are entirely
covered by years of ubiquitous dust?
When the ink of written word
is worn unreadable?

What to do with all the time spent
when there is no longer energy
enough to open the boxes?

Previously Published in “Otherwise Engaged” (2024).

In the Wake of War

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

The wildflowers will not survive.

A mumble and murmur stomping
the surface of the earth has displaced

their fragile roots.

The smoke will rise,

scatter,             stumble in the wind.

The gentle opening of petals to sun
will be smothered by air clouded over
by a thick explosion of bravado.

The wildflowers will not survive,

but they might return.

Once the dust settles,
a few seeds may scatter in the wind
in search of new bed to lay
their roots,                    to rebuild.

In time:

the rain will return,

as will the wind.

as will the flowers;

just as surely as war,

and explosion               and the uprooting

            of innocent life

will return.

We forget,                    in our windowsills

            and sunshine,

even if we were planted in this spot for generations
a glorious tragedy is always close by.

“In the Wake of War” was previously published by Pictura Journal (2024).