Poetry

At the Clinic

/ Katrina Kaye / 4 Comments

Katrina Kaye

There is eagerness
in the quiver of your knee.

I feel the rattle
of muscle to bones,
a rougher metal.

I reach for your thigh
as kind as bitch to cub,
hold you still
and our eyes meet.

Caught off guard you
waken from trance.
Come back to me.

You smile.

I take my hand away,
but you catch it with
quick fingers. You say
you are not scared,

but I know well the
carved edges of waiting
room walls and how fake
wood on office doors peels
around the edges.

I’ve been counting the
tiny dots on ceiling tile
for my whole life
just waiting for it to
fall in on me and now
I bring you here,

lover, friend, child.
I am more frightened
than I have ever been.

“At the Clinic” is previously published in To Anyone Who Has Ever Loved a Writer (2014).

Apple

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

Finger paint on belly:
draw your future there,
hazel eyes,
rimmed with green.

Draw the moon
we can make love under,
draw the apple ripe
on the limb.
Actualize need and temptation
in the form of careful tokens.

Wrap layers tight,
so I can’t feel the freeze
you leave about me,

so clumsy steps
against hardwood and
broken window panes
don’t conquer
like they once did.

Instead,
hold fast to my skin.

Roll up in my hair,
finger stray locks
removing the dirt of the day
with tentative strokes.

Be gentle in your word play,
patient in this mislaid speech.

My body hungers at times;
my soul, so desperate,
for the sting and slap of inconceivable future.

Hand – here.
Colors dancing from your fingertips
onto the pale flesh of belly.

“Apple” is previously published in September (2014) and one other anthology which I do not remember.

Uninvited

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

You are uninvited;
bitter against lips,
rash over skin,
sleep talk and night sweats
forbidding mindful rest.

Your voice molds over me,
a battle of syntax,
an iron cast conceived
in a stretched mind
and firmly planted feet.

Syllables wrap
thin ropes around
outstretched fingers.

The tongue,
so strong.

This pop of shoulder,
this curse word and collection
of false stories,
they are not meant for you.
I only spit them
in surprise of your presence,
eager to remain pacified
against determination.

You’re here now,
without warning.
The best kind
of unexpected guest.

I am ready for
slink and slither,
praying on revolution
like a forgotten religion,
words on pagan moon,
animal inside human covering.

Become claws and creature,
reptile and remarkable.

Come,
I’ve already let you in.

“Uninvited” is previously published in Roi Faineant Literary Press (2021) and They Don’t Make Memories Like That Anymore (2011).