Katrina Kaye
In the darkness
I had you.
On vast plains,
in deep caves,
you were there.
We rode bareback
over land that provided
food, drink, and shelter.
What it did not give,
you could.
I waited out the snow
with you in my arms,
surviving off your heat.
And when spring came,
sun baked life back into the earth,
into the people;
I was already there
alive with you.
“Myth” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).
Katrina Kaye
flowers are a start
even if they are cut
even if they
too
will die
after all
we do not want our grief
to outlast its usefulness
the way trinkets and mementos
so often do
grief will outlast
the flowers
but they will serve as
a reminder
the cycle continues
there is always
something changing
in our hearts
from decay
a newness can arise
with love
forgiveness
passing of time
shells soften
by the turn of tides
diamonds eventually
crumble to sand
grief shouldn’t
last forever
take time
commemorate this grief
this ordinary
this everyday
but don’t ask it to remain
like the most resilient of roses
grief too will shed its pedals
and lose its glamour
grief will return to earth
it will erode like fallen leafs
like skin and bones
like love
and
in time
it will be forgotten
“Ordinary Grief” is previously published in Anti-Heroin Chic, December 2018.
Katrina Kaye
I do not regret the days
I spent loving you in her absence.
I do not regret
your tempered touches
as you searched for her skin
under my scales
or the way your eyes reflected
her sharp chin and freckled chest
when they fell on my frame.
I do not regret
the fleeting space we created,
morning gestures
in the folds of sheet and flesh.
Tending your wounds
with tongue and time.
You found solace
with your elbows on my table,
your dirty feet in my bed,
but I knew you would exit
on your own side to look
out the south facing window.
She was ever present
upon the waves of your thoughts.
Your ears keen for her voice,
but I heard it first,
soft as the buzz of bumble bees on the beach
calling you home.
I do not regret
returning to a solitary balcony
above the ocean’s turning point,
or slipping inside my bed,
still warm in your place.
As you kiss my hands
in gratitude of my hospitality,
my kindness,
don’t leave thinking,
I am emptied.
I gave what I wanted,
no more,
no less.
“Her Absence” is previously published in the collection, my verse…, published by Swimming with Elephants Publications, LLC in 2012 and Vox Poetica in 2011.
Chasing Rabbits 
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