100 Days with Sophie, 1997
after Lee Mingwei “100 days with Lily, 1995”
sophie putting on her belt her pants are always too big. sophie soaking the beans overnight. sophie slow to start on her broken bike. sophie upset after work all day she’s a computer. sophie biking not turning back around the corner at wildenbruchstrasse with the construction I’m stuck behind the gates. sophie her arms long wrapping around me twice. sophie her words fast too fast slow down while you’re telling a story okay. sophie her words so slow they mean she’s falling asleep. sophie don’t fall asleep. sophie are you asleep no I’m awake. sophie begging I don’t want the night to end. sophie in blue in the tall grass her eyes closed. sophie chopping garlic only one sharp knife in the drawer. sophie her hands are in bread she’s squishing it together it’ll be better that way in her mouth. sophie peeing be quiet I have to focus okay now I’m peeing. sophie more I want more. sophie I’m so much taller than you. sophie taking out her hoops every night when they start to poke her neck so she turns from me with her fingers on the lobes of her ears. sophie going to bed I need to turn she turns away. sophie leaving out the milk on the counter I put it back. sophie sponging down the counter it’s so late for that. sophie twitching her body is numb I want you to breathe. sophie keep reading. sophie at lidl picking out wilted arugula that’s the one thing never buy wilted. sophie listening to autumn in new york again. sophie taking off her dirty socks. sophie folding her shirts in the closet metallic with sweat. sophie coming home with disinfectant lozenges for my tonsils I don’t feel okay today. sophie jacket around us and the movie not the right language. sophie rubbing sleep from her eyes and it’s yellow caught in the creases. sophie scooping mustard out with a cucumber. sophie pulling me down to her face there are cups stacked and crumbs on her computer and no one wants me to leave so I kiss and then again, I kiss, a last time, I kiss before I leave and we say good luck today. sophie I’m ready to leave. sophie did you lock the door. sophie the key is stuck we have to go around to the front. sophie ice cream is on the way. sophie pressing her fingers into my brainstem I have a headache again. sophie smelling of apple cider in her hair. sophie setting her tea on the pallets while her stomach sloshes with liquid she’s so full don’t touch her. sophie thank you for doing the laundry. sophie that’s too much butter. sophie I love hearing your thoughts. sophie your sweater matches your eyes. sophie grinning back at me on her bike and look up there’s another rainbow. sophie going for a swim alone and the water is cool. sophie watering the plants but she’s moaning they’re dying we don’t know what she’s doing wrong. sophie switching sides with me so I can see the clouds. sophie how can you be my baby and I can be your baby at the same time. sophie watermelon dripping all over her hands and eating the mealy bites for me. sophie kissing the good part of my arm I watch her lips. sophie have you eaten yet. sophie are you hungry are you going to be hungry should we pack food before we leave. sophie filling water bottles so we won’t get thirsty. sophie dancing putting her hands on my waist asking is this okay it’s always okay. sophie her eyes across the room just a second longer while everyone talks. sophie rubbing her chin to get rid of the acne. sophie I’m sorry I have to pee. sophie asking me a question I never thought of that question before. sophie stopping to examine a broken rained-inside computer on the street again. sophie listening to blue moon again. sophie how was your day. sophie I’ll help you honey. sophie what. sophie nothing. sophie bring a coat I don’t want you to be cold. sophie her back pale. sophie slowing down so I can stop to see the river red at sunset. sophie wake me up if you can’t fall asleep. sophie rolling around and we can’t stop laughing my legs are braced against the wall. sophie I’m sad we won’t remember this. sophie looking at me like I’m beautiful so I get reminded. sophie looking at me like she loves me so I get reminded. sophie pushing her bike up the bridge my back stinging with scratches and sweat pouring down no water left and we’re going to die. sophie weaving in the dark through the pillars at görli and follow her I think sometimes follow this woman to the ends of the earth okay yes sure. sophie warm against my body when the train arrives with its wind and it’s time to get on now. sophie what a great thing we did for ourselves. sophie I had so much fun. sophie I love you sophie.
Lily Meyersohn is a narrative nonfiction writer and prose poet based in Providence, RI. Her bestselling audiobook, "Exit Interview With My Grandmother," was published in May 2020, and other essays and prose-poetry have been published in Entropy, Peach Mag, Little Pharma, and elsewhere.