Skaja Evens
—Poetry by Skaja Evens,
SE Virginia
—Artwork Courtesy of
Public Domain
I’M NOT SAYING
Words flash in my mind
Memory fragments of our exchanges
Jokes and deep truths in the dark, and
I miss you so much I can’t breathe
I sense your presence in others
When they say things you’d say
Dispensing your wisdom, like only you could
I smile to myself, fondly remembering
Coming up on ten years of you being gone
And I keep what I can of our last conversations
Reading them sometimes, and hearing everything
In that SoCal, by way of Brooklyn, voice
I keep our song in my heart
Weaving that old black magic
I wish like hell I could hear you
Tell me you love me one more time
Words flash in my mind
Memory fragments of our exchanges
Jokes and deep truths in the dark, and
I miss you so much I can’t breathe
I sense your presence in others
When they say things you’d say
Dispensing your wisdom, like only you could
I smile to myself, fondly remembering
Coming up on ten years of you being gone
And I keep what I can of our last conversations
Reading them sometimes, and hearing everything
In that SoCal, by way of Brooklyn, voice
I keep our song in my heart
Weaving that old black magic
I wish like hell I could hear you
Tell me you love me one more time
DISCLOSED DESIRES
If I could have anything
I would be with you
Laughing, drinking, loving
Living within the moments that flicker in the candlelight
Existing in the passion in our eyes
Surrendering to desires felt, yet unspoken
Reaching for each other to stoke fires held deep within
I would be with you
Laughing, drinking, loving
Living within the moments that flicker in the candlelight
Existing in the passion in our eyes
Surrendering to desires felt, yet unspoken
Reaching for each other to stoke fires held deep within
SWEETHEART
I treasure when you call me sweetheart
It is my favorite of the endearments
And the way it sounds in your voice
Lends a level of intimacy not found elsewhere
In those moments I feel cherished
I treasure when you call me sweetheart
It is my favorite of the endearments
And the way it sounds in your voice
Lends a level of intimacy not found elsewhere
In those moments I feel cherished
WHAT I’VE LEARNED FROM
LOVING A CAGED DREAMER
They’ll hold you at arm’s length
If they aren’t actively pushing you away
If you’re lucky, you’ll get glimpses of their heart
Before that door slams shut again
Startling the peace they crave
In the circumstances when they do open up
Everything’s filtered behind sarcasm
And unintentional cruelty
While they try in vain to hold everything inside
Because it appears to hurt less
You’ll often become frustrated
Shouting at them when they can’t hear
Feeling helpless to do anything meaningful
Though that passes upon realizing
Listening is a powerful fix on its own
LOVING A CAGED DREAMER
They’ll hold you at arm’s length
If they aren’t actively pushing you away
If you’re lucky, you’ll get glimpses of their heart
Before that door slams shut again
Startling the peace they crave
In the circumstances when they do open up
Everything’s filtered behind sarcasm
And unintentional cruelty
While they try in vain to hold everything inside
Because it appears to hurt less
You’ll often become frustrated
Shouting at them when they can’t hear
Feeling helpless to do anything meaningful
Though that passes upon realizing
Listening is a powerful fix on its own
IT FELT GOOD TO SCREAM
I drove away not long after confessing deep truths
And sharing stories of fucked-up moments
Everything careening towards a threshold moment
Of simultaneously focusing and falling apart
Shuffling through music to find rawness
Songs where everything is left on the stage
Same as how a writer leaves everything on the page
I screamed out the sadness, frustration, anger
Rage and heartbreak for the me who had to live through pain
Deep scarring that’ll never heal
Best I can ever do is learn to carry it
Hope that it will get easier to bear
On a whim, I found myself with fire water
Having a loose plan of shaking things up
Either feel it deeper, or forget for awhile
Take a break from drifting
Frozen ice floes on a river
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
I drove away not long after confessing deep truths
And sharing stories of fucked-up moments
Everything careening towards a threshold moment
Of simultaneously focusing and falling apart
Shuffling through music to find rawness
Songs where everything is left on the stage
Same as how a writer leaves everything on the page
I screamed out the sadness, frustration, anger
Rage and heartbreak for the me who had to live through pain
Deep scarring that’ll never heal
Best I can ever do is learn to carry it
Hope that it will get easier to bear
On a whim, I found myself with fire water
Having a loose plan of shaking things up
Either feel it deeper, or forget for awhile
Take a break from drifting
Frozen ice floes on a river
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
A DIFFERENT METHOD OF
DRUNK TEXTING
—Skaja Evens
I am all manners of fucked up
And what I want most in this moment
Is to be in your arms
Riding this trip in my mind
Encouraging every piece of dialog between us
Fueling intense passion
And spontaneous release
_____________________
We’re welcoming a new guest to the Kitchen today: Skaja Evens is a writer and artist living in Southeast Virginia. She edits It Takes All Kinds, a litzine published by Mōtus Audāx Press. She’s been published in Spillwords Press, The Dope Fiend Daily, The Rye Whiskey Review, and The Crossroads Lit Magazine. Skaja can often be found listening to music, considering the impossible, and enjoying her cats’ antics. To see the latest issue of It Takes All Kinds (“a press dedicated to sharing voices, even the ones in our heads”), which is open for submissions, go to https://motusaudaxpress.blogspot.com/. Welcome to the Kitchen, Skaja, and don’t be a stranger!
_____________________
—Medusa
Skaja Evens
For upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
in the links at the top of this page.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
in the links at the top of this page.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
