Poetry, Lauren Sims
Tread lightly, as not to wake the little details
they don't like it when you stare
In those younger days,
a woman with soft hair
like woven thread between my fingers
and my sister’s eyes
told me not to stare at the sun
Squinty eyed and open mouthed
I found no reason not to
These days,
the arms of another fold into my skin
like a stranger
pried off tomatoes on the vine
Sweet acidity,
the ceremony of it all
Polite farewells and a fistful of phrases I’ve collected on my way
I keep a pinch of salt in my pockets
just in case I don’t like the taste of a stranger on my tongue,
and to find my words better than they left me
Lauren Sims is a 21-year-old amateur poet living in Chicago. She has been writing poems and stories for as long as she can remember, but it wasn’t until this year that she really started taking her writing seriously. This September she released her first zine titled “The Birds” which is a collection of nine poems. The collection, as a whole, is heavily influenced by the natural world, the concept of change, and memories of childhood. “Salt” is from the collection.