Ms. Cays’ thesis has been published in a subscription-based service, so you would need access through an institution that has this database to view the fill copy, typically a university library. If you have access through your/a university, and they subscribe to the Pro-Quest dissertations & theses database, you should be able to locate it there. If you do not have access, or your university does not have the required database, here is a preview link that will not require a login: https://www.proquest.com/docview/2833879659/previewPDF

Cradle of Moss

Summer heat pushed

thin mirror-waves

above asphalt

that ended

at the leaf-mat path.

It spread and curved

under the shadow

of sentinel trees.

The green side of them

needled north,

they were an escort beyond

walls, and cars, and dogs.

This morning

the songbirds call—

then it is calm,

then nothing at all.

Afternoon there is only

the dove’s coo,

and stream-waters

licking rocks.

They flow around

the pronged bend

with its perfect cradle

of moss; this place

of leaving off.

Published Summer 2020 by Hastings College Press in the Plainsongs literary journal. Click HERE for more informaton.

Arboreal

Above the roofline of my mother’s house I am a

child holding tight to the arms of the old maple, it

was a sapling in that spot before

I ever breathed, or anyone in my family.

Its trembly gray-barked branches often ladder my

weight into the unwritten notes of the wind—

this day the rush of its fingers loosens my braid,

wild dark hair swaying.

My whole body sways with the crown

of that tree, that womb of leaves and branches

Together we become music,

I breathe the smell fresh as sunlight,

a song nesting at the back of my throat,

these moments more important:

the wilderness of my heaven,

than every secret in that house below—

My thin frame a reed in that canopy.

Published by Sable Books 2017: Red Sky: Poetry on the Global Epidemic of Violence Against Women Click HERE for more information.

A Clement Touch

For her grandmother Mamie

A scar in the palm

small fingers cupped

rest on her shoulder

to guide her way.

Through eyes that had seen

not having enough

Mamie saved jars,

lids, and paper.

To teach respect and life,

she lifted the soil

with an arched back,

holding the handle

of that tool,

she guided the delivery

of the seeds

and covered them with soil.

She loved and gave, to each one in need,

her children’s children

they came separately.

She loved

and gave

and lived her days.

Previously published by the Charlotte Writers Club in their Anthology 2007
Click HERE for more information.

Motion

A smashed soda can

kicked down the street

churns out of its plastic grocery sack

which catches on the wind.

Lifted up

it moves, dances

on the breeze

ascending

cloud fingers catch

the pink of sunset,

that lay against open sky

quietly drifting upward.

Previously published by Wake Review Literary Magazine 2007