7 months in my mothers'
home 9 months in my 2
mothers' wombs
I walked through woods.
I grew familiar 2 the white-tailed deer.
I ate weed for medicine + snacks.
Talked 2 myself more than I should,
but I did not talk to g/d.
1 night from an app 6 beers from the bar
Her mouth over my mouth.
Downy hips fit like a lid
over my mouth.
From there, a flimsy epiphany
came hard, like a shot in the arm.
She saw the grips on my blue socks.
She said more, so I gave.
Then in the darkness, 1 queef.
Our laughs came in peels, like a gift.
I left at dawn.
White tails broke
through the
crepuscular fog.
I said 2 the doe, oh.
My g/d, tell them.
Tell everybody!
I am good
at loving
people.
I am good
at loving
the world.
Leah Yacknin-Dawson
Leah Yacknin-Dawson is a writer from Pittsburgh, PA. She earned her MFA from the University of Texas at Austin, where she was the recipient of the Fania Kruger Fellowship. Leah’s work has appeared in StoryQuarterly, Greensboro Review, Hobart Pulp, Yalobusha Review, and more.
