Katrina Kaye
it has been
seven years
since last
we touched
the final
flakes of body
that remembered
are rubbed clean
i am reborn
but there is
residual substance
in the circuitry
of mind
left over, sticky, and
lingering
a clue
clinging
to cobwebs
as clean as
body may be
it is no match
for the grip
of memory
despite the
warmth of skin,
muscle, heartbeat,
breath, and blood,
there is a chill
that sinks
to bone
“7” is previously published in Saturday’s Sirens (2021).
Katrina Kaye
You can see where the old pier
used to be, hundreds of water
warped posts standing at attention
in the shallow water. You can see
how low the tide has receded. They are
lost souls, blackened by time and hard
water, seething salt from tattered torsos.
They watch the beach as if they remembered
the feel of sand between their toes but
they have sulked too long, become one with
the rippling patterns. Strangers forever
separated by five distinctive feet.
“The Pier” is previously published in Chasing Rabbits (2012).
Katrina Kaye
I freeze
without you.
The towers
I place
around me
are set
on fire,
but they can
not keep
me warm.
I reach
for you,
not as easy
to find
as I hoped,
not quite
where I
thought you
would be.
In your
absence,
I lay
a slice
of memory
on my chest,
over flesh,
not as tender
as I remember,
not as much
a second skin,
yet
somehow
the shiver
is pacified.
“Cold” is previously published in Rabbits for Luck (2016).
Chasing Rabbits 
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