Sparrow

Migration

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

The sun aches,
an orange jewel in violet.
We share too many mornings
in silence. All our words
migrate.

The sparrows fled
late this year.

They found it easy
to sleep among windowpanes,
rest in late afternoon sun.
Far too easy to fall from
treetops, when their
time has come.

I grew old
with the ebb of summer,
but my little girl’s smile,
a yellow butterfly,
bright and tender,
shimmered in dawn’s mist.

Fluttering against the blue,
life rustles beside
drying leaves on wilted vines.
There is something so free
about a flirting bird following
its kin as the seasons change.
I caress her flushed cheeks
with hands spotted by time.
These lined lips can not
match her vibrant grin.

It’s time to follow
the sparrows, and leave her
to the fall.

“Migration” is previously published in Trailing Sparrows (2014).

Come as You Are

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

Navigate using the sun like a compass.

Find direction
on the cloudiest days
beaconed in violent sky.

At the door,
your tattered skin,
broken body.

Know there is still a place for you,
this brood still recognizes you by scent.

Find home here.

We end up hip to hip at this table,
sharing bread from the same bowl.

I wrap ears around your revelations,
let thumb prints sink into your mind
until you realize this is where you belong.

One of my kind:
not a gentleman,
not a tramp.
A misfit finding comfort
in your familiars.
Twisted words tell terrible tales,
split lips
I could have molded
from my own reflection.

Our breed may have been
separated in infancy by
high water and strong winds,
but we were born to the same tribe,
our mouths cradle the same tongue.

Distance cannot eclipse bonds.
Legacy cannot be hidden in straps of time.

Come as you are,
you are welcome here.

“Come as You Are” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).

Fleeting

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

The echo of our time together
still reeks of musty clothes and walks in the rain.

Aware of the tick of the tock,
I hastily wrote my lyrics all over your body,
unfinished tattoos of snarling dragons
and long haired beauties.

We were starving then,
misfit and broken,
so desperate on these feet
which knew only how to sink in sand.

The snap of your smile
was enough to unknot
the tiny hairs around my neck.
The ink of your iris
left my door unlocked
for the chance you
needed a comfort to crawl in.

You were my favorite stanza
of a strange poem
birthed over bed sheets and smiling moons.

I was so careful
not to use the word forever.

After you slipped out,
I spent the afternoon
looking for scissors to clip
this moment clean.

Instead I found ribbons of your
Wednesday night verses,
the imprinted entanglement of your arms,
the scrawl of your breath
against shoulder blade,
the residual whisper:

This
is all there is.

Just you,
just me,

just this.

“Fleeting” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).