top of page

"Mare", "Gods and Prophets", and "Uninvited" by Katrina Kaye


Time whispers a voice honeyed jasmine thick with moss.

She has grown old against the evening sun, enveloped in the dust of dusk.

In the reflection of stagnant pools, she doesn’t ripple.

Merely notes the landmarks of her face, the constancy of her mind.

Time staggers forward.

Gods and Prophets

Of course


had no fear;

cocaine was

easy to

come by.

Revolution does

not stem

from the sober,

solitary mind,

but from a rebellion

fueled by adrenaline

and endorphins

and synapses,




like dried up


and words that

trickle from

numb tongues

faster than white

powder up paper

straw, but does that

give meaning?



On enough blow

anyone can talk to

god or become

a prophet,

on the fifty

second hour we

can all read each

other’s mind.

Kerouac was no


he merely hit

the road,

bummed around,

locked himself

in his cave for three

days and let the

paper fly from



You are uninvited, bitter against lips, rash over skin, sleep talk, night sweats, a battle of syntax.

Syllables wrap thin ropes around outstretched fingers.

The tongue, so strong.

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

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.


I’ve already let you in.

Katrina Kaye is a writer and educator living in Albuquerque, NM. She is seeking an audience for her ever-growing surplus of poetic meanderings. She hoards her published writing on her website: She is grateful to anyone who reads her work and in awe of those willing to share it.


bottom of page