Mary’s brother, Ethan, is intrigue
through a secret splinter. I gawk
at him sketching his hands
while his ears pour wire.

He would taste me. But I’m in love
with the raw pink under his blistered
fingers, the tap dancing callouses
chipping away
at their dusty recycled plane.

I only want to be the genius
in the dark chocolate that dissolves
two hemispheres—

the melting into the mouth
of that infinite gape.

Image Credit:Samantha Green

Kaci Skiles Laws is a closet cat-lady and creative writer living in Dallas—Fort Worth. Her writing has been featured in The Letters Page, Bewildering Stories, The American Journal of Poetry, Pif Magazine, The Blue Nib, Necro Magazine, and Ten Million Flies, among others. Her published work and blog can be viewed at