Poet

Forever

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

Forever might last
only a matter of seconds
in the right hands.

It might last a night
of shadow and fog and
a chill in the air.

Forever is the five years
we spent pushing and
pulling together.

From the moment you found
your place at my side
to the last night you laid beside me.

So heavy, so still.
The weight of the world
pinning you to mattress.

The rise and fall of your body
a tender reminder
that this is forever.

And I am afraid of forever,
the commitment to sun and earth,
the permanence of it;

the way it does not negotiate
or offer resolve.
The curse of continuance.

Forever we hold our flags,
white and half mast
howling to a moon

that ceases to be despite how
we know it will forever
be there.

“Forever” is previously published by The Wild Word (2024).

Seventeen Years

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

In my dream you were alive.

I saw you:

a broken man with crooked smile
telling me it’s been seventeen years.
You’ve been looking for me for
seventeen years. You’ve been in love
with me for seventeen years.

It’s been seventeen years since
your spine cracked upon impact.
It was just one of those things that happen,

an accident.

No one’s fault;

No one to shoulder the blame.

It has been seventeen years since we
raced the halls together. A good kid
who smiled too much. A chip of broken tile
and notes passed by girls. You never should
have become a name smeared to highway.
Never should have been anything more than

a fond memory,

a high school crush,

an old alliance,

a childhood friend.

Now, you survive in the pit of my stomach,
and despite a promise of pleasant reminiscence,
the dream shifts to the crack of skeleton,
the shattering of front tooth.

I can’t trade this image
for a kinder one. It haunts me.

For seventeen years,

it haunts me still.

More than anything,

I want to find you, to call you,
to write you a message in my
sloppy script assuring you
some things never die. But
you are already lost to me.

This is how I wake, chasing
rabbits and trailing sparrows. At
a loss for what I cannot quite
reach. You were always the illusive
one. So I lay here and I endure and
it is as sweet as the Sunday morning
we never shared.

“Seventeen Years” is previously published in Anvil Tongue (2022) and MockingOwl Roost (2022).

Writing Prompt: I Told You So

/ Katrina Kaye

Let’s talk about gut feelings. Those times when you knew something or understood something without being told. I don’t mean paranoia and insecurities, but those moments when your instinct or intuition took over and it was correct.

Describe the situation, the feeling. Did you tell anyone? Did they believe you? How did it feel to be “right”? Did you listen to your gut? Change your behavior because of what your intuition whispered to you? You might also choose to explore the idea of trusting your gut verses following expectation.

You might be able to create a poem or short story from this prompt, or it might feel good just to vent on the page. As always, choose your own adventure! Feel free to share your creation in the comments section.