Katrina Kaye

Your hand loitered too long
against the scar on my thigh.
A slim trench of fluttered skin
hidden in the darkness of our bed.

I felt the graze of fingertips
skulk back and forth
as you became aware
of wrinkled depression,
a gash healed over with tender tissue,
not forgotten, and never mentioned.

You stumbled upon secret slice
as sharp as emerging tooth,
as though neglected stretch of skin
remained hungry and eager
for the affection of fingers.

You, with your stubborn curiosity,
said no words, only replied
in soft caress. You lingered
over this mark as though trying
to heal it with the heat of your hand,
lending the question as to whether it is something
you love or long to erase.

“Slice of Thigh” is previously published in Open Minds Quarterly (2022).