The Fall of a Sparrow

Looking for you

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

Under the waves,
I burrow

down

down

down,

safe under the weight of sand.

Content here,
holding on to you.
I envelop in cool earth
next to your crumbled bones.

ignorant to the creep of sun,
pulling tide back to
reveal barren beach.

Nothing survives here.

I try to stay entombed
but I am stripped,
exposed,
forced to surface,
to wake,
gasp for air.

The afternoon sun bleaches
bones and burns flesh.

I know you remain
although you hide well
among the waves,

turning in and out
with the swing of moon.

I still dig,
separate the damp sand
with bowed palms

trying to find a soft spot
below the shallow
to cup and curl into you.

“Looking for You” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014) and Anvil Tongue (2022).

First Kiss

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

While our parents sit drinking
wine and discussing tomorrow,

we dress each other in mistletoe
and left over silver tinsel.

We make sashes of old strips of paper,
anklets and bracelets out of gold ribbon.

I am the one with the glittery bow,
you are the one in white.

With snips of the scissors
we turn one another into gypsy princesses.

You say we should paint our toenails red.
I say we should learn the violin.

Your mother gives us a tambourine,
faded blue peace sign on taut calfskin.

I poise my hand with imaginary bow
over invisible instrument

and with clanging clashes
we swish our juvenile hips.

We throw candy coins at each other’s feet
as we dance in the hallway to a rhythm-less beat.

After they have all gone to bed,
you trace the lifeline of my right hand

and tell a fate of sparrows crippled by autumn
with you in the past and migration destined.

I press my future between your lips
and believe every word.

“First Kiss” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014) and A Scattering of Imperfections (2009).

Beating Heart Cadaver

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

I wish I could warm my feet on you tonight;
I wish you would take my hands in yours
and ask me why I am always so cold.

I tell you it’s not my fault.
Ropes of red under pale skin,
beating burden buried in ribbed cage,
these things lack heat.

My cold body
doesn’t deny the pump of blood,
but heart is veiled deep
and when hand curls against chest,
the cavern seems hollow.

This is life without living.
Disappointment in survival
leading to dropped eyes
and limp lips.

What’s the point of circulation
without the ability to feel sensation?
What’s the point of catching
the wind if unwinged?

Skin only prickles in the breeze.
A reflex, not a reaction.

Spiteful muscle continues convulsing.
I lack the talent to stop it
as much as the spark to ignite.

You once enveloped me completely;
concealing me safely inside cracked fingers
with a protective embrace.
You shielded me from broken glass and car crash.

Now, my back has toughened
under the beat of sun.
Fossilized casing becomes only shelter,
curdled limbs only protection.

I miss being able to stretch open,
to reach for you, to squeeze back.
I miss the way your hands made mine
seem warm and

so

very

small.

“Beating Heart Cadaver” is previously published in The Fall of a Sparrow (2014).