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Now Available: No Longer Water by Katrina Kaye

/ Katrina Kaye

It’s finally here!

Pick up a copy of my newest chapbook released from Echobird Press!

No Longer Water is a collection of poems welcoming raw emotion regarding the process of aging mindfully into a truer self. Here, aging is regarded as a gift rather than a burden. In particular, a woman’s personal journey from who she once was to who she is now. With growth, either physical or mental, there are aches and discomforts that hurt to the core. This collection allows the aches to blossom. Discomforts become fuel to grow without outside influence. The speaker is no longer looking outwardly but inwardly. In this journey through poetry, there is a momentous shift where the mind, body, and soul understands both the trials and challenges of maturity, along with the rewards. Ultimately, life is a gift. The journey is tranquil, enlightened, and blessed, even if the trail is muddy.

Follow this link to order directly from the publisher (the price is cheaper than Amazona and B&N). My book, no longer water, is in the lowest row.
https://echobirdpress.com/shop/

Echobird Press Bookstore

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Soundtrack

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

You prefer to listen to my soundtrack:

my sigh at your touch,
the chords of gasp curse moan prayer,
the rhythm of my laughter.

The pulse of your lips on bare shoulder
sends a harmony throughout my body.

I continue to interlace my notes with yours,
eager to wrap my coda around you,
hold you tight inside this melody of morning.

I purr for you,
a vibration between skin and bone.
The treble of your embrace hums
inside the length of my octave.

It’s a tempo in my shoulder blades,
the meter in a Monday morning
and a half night’s sleep,
residing in the throat of me.

I hold my song still,
take my heart off my tongue
and put it in the drawer by my bed.

The cadence of our time together
is still rattling against exposed skin,
though your lips sing static.

You embedded a beat inside me
and left your refrain to reverberate
between spine and sternum,
long after the music died.

“Soundtrack” is previously published in They Don’t Make Memories like that Anymore (2011).

On days like this…

/ Katrina Kaye / Leave a comment

Katrina Kaye

On days like this
I feel like the pills
stopped working, that
I need a higher
dose and I consider
calling my doctor,
saying I can’t
get out of bed, saying
there is nothing
here for me.

On days like this,
I hug friends for no
reason and don’t let go.
My dog’s brown eyes make
me cry when I have no time
to take him for a walk,
and I think I need a
new prescription,
to call someone,
to disappear for a while.

On days like this,

on days like this,
I think of my mother
and how she has made it
through days like this.
I must make it too.

On days like this,

on days like this,
I think of the clever words
I should have written
in bathroom stalls
in big, black sharpie marker.
I think about what
I should have said
the last time we met
and how that moment is
forever gone.

On days like this,

On days like this,
I think of the woman driving
the bus the same age as me
and wonder if she’s happy.
I think of  lost marbles
and pens that never
had a chance
to run out of ink.
I think about the rock
not pretty or special enough
to be collected and
the way the world ends
when you die.
I think of the promises
I made to myself and
the silence that came
when I broke them.

On days like this,

on days like this,

on days like this,
I don’t know if I can
make another day
like this.

“On days like this” is previously published in Light as a Feather First Edition (2014) and Saturday’s Sirens (2022).