Bachelorette Party
by Sophia Farrier

Moving your fingers over Mickey
and Minnie mouse—red hats, hockey
puck ears—tapping your nails against
their plastic eyes, you held the cup steady.
You giggled at their happiness and gulped
pinot noir as you sat among crumpled
tissue paper, lingerie, boxes, and passion fruit
flavored massage oils. Your friends told dirty
stories of showers and hairy men and asked
which old friend you wished you had kissed.
Your eyes watered with the pressure
of cool wind gusts and snow crystals.
His hand reaching towards yours,
his face covered in white flakes
like the night sky buried in stars.

I can't think of anyone but him, you whispered,
watching the white melt into the dark of his skin.
Your friends pretending to throw up opened
their mouths wide, laughing and calling
How sweet! They continued breaking
in with stories of their own lost loves
not allowing you to continue.
Maybe they didn't want to know
you would go back to bed
with the snow tonight
but not with the sky.

Dandelion
by Sophia Farrier

I awoke one morning
to the supple rays
of light
shuffling through
the white strands
of my aging form.

I awoke
believing the clouds
had fallen
and I was one of them.

But the mind evoked
ardent images
of my golden-haired youth,
lush green torso,
atop the vast fields.

I awoke
to an arm outstretched,
tiny fingers,
grasping,
breaking.

I awoke one morning
to find my life ended
for simple pleasure.

One quick snap.
One long breath.

                Float

                                Float

                                                          Float

Flying
by Sophia Farrier

Sophia, don't be a wuss.
I squinted my eyebrows, a mixture of sun and fear
boiling the water out of me. I could taste
my brother's laughter and its dirty metallic flavor
as I looked at the curb stretched out before me
like the Grand Canyon with its long shadows
reaching toward the potholes.

I'll make it over the edge,
just like my brother did.
I peddled fast, the cards
flapping against my spokes,
my bicycle chanting:
You can do it. You can do it.
I knew I could.

I hit the curb.
I could hear my mother singing
                      Mia orea petalouda¹
nursery rhymes as my bike flew,
                      se enan kipo mia fora²
and I stared at the canyon
                      bike kai itam mia hara³
and I could see it was only a little cliff.

I could smell the grease
on my bicycle chain, feel my leg as it dragged
against the ground and the warmth
of the liquid and concrete, as I lay staring
at the clouds and tasting my salty lips.

I could see the Grand Canyon
                      zontanevi kai peta⁴
in puffs of white with an orange glow
                      kiotan efthi o himonas⁵
and the trees so tiny on its ledge.
                      pefti kato san nekra⁶
But it dissolved around me and all I could see was the sun
and feel the heat of it pulling all the moisture out of my skin.

1. One beautiful butterfly
   
2. in a garden once upon a time
   
3. flew and felt wonderful
   
4. she is alive and flies
   
5. and when winter comes
   
6. she falls down like she is dead
   

Sophia Farrier is a 21-year-old woman who enjoys slurping tom kha soup, making pinhole photos, and nibbling cold asparagus while she daydreams of forgotten opportunities with pointe shoes and improv. She seeks images to knit her ink scribbles into a winter sweater. (Sophia is a Senior at Marylhurst University, majoring in English literature and writing).

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