Leave me to dream that curve of skin,
curve of lip. For a woman is a woman
only in dangerous land—parts hardened
by gaze, coaxed open by teeth. I realize
all along I’ve been waiting for a mistake.
This mistake—asking after origin. It never
came—it just was. Like a mountain was, like
a woman was. Umber & sloping.
Yejin Suh is a student from New Jersey whose work appears in Half Mystic and Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and has been recognized by YoungArts, UK Poetry Society, and The New York Times, among others. She aims to foster love for speculative fiction in the emerging writers’ community through her publication, Wintermute Lit.