Lauren Rile Smith

CROOKED

A cool and shady bent. Windswept, fresh; wrapped
in cotton wool. On the other side of home, crossed ankles,

stormcloud entrance. Invisible filaments (her father's
fishing wires). A vaulted grasp, a corkscrew churning,
chickens scratching roadside dirt. Some sachet.

Her hands smell like fruit and dead flowers, skin shiny
from rubbing against the watch strap. Appearing in.
Person to be, they told her. Look as if you're getting slapped.




Lauren Rile Smith is a first-year student at Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, and the Assistant Editor of the American Poetry Review. Her work has appeared in publications including Skanky Possum, Xconnect, and The Philadelphia Inquirer.