Sophia Pouzyrev


In the solemn haze of a rainy storm cloud that drowns a city of lights in darkness
I found comfort in the rising steam of a coffee cup
Here in this cafe, we have been transported to Midwestern America
The clocks don’t work ‘round these parts
We like it that way

In your wide youthful eyes, I see myself
Not as an inconvenient compilation of lanky limbs and beady eyes but
An elusive vase of dried flowers, found at the back of the room
That you can’t help but stare at
For hours
Because it holds magic, and there’s nothing more addictive than magic

To be looked at by a man for the first time was an experience that drowned me
Stuck a bullet in my heart that launched me against a cold beige wall while I screamed No

To be marveled at by a beautiful stranger
Now, that was gasp worthy

A drug, an internalized, compulsive urge to lock eyes
With him and her and all of them
Sensation that rose from the source of my womanhood to the source of my common sense
And knowledge that should’ve told me I wasn’t ready

The word sex came out as a jumble of colliding noises
Fit awkwardly against the roof of my mouth, lips trying hard to stop it from entering space
And my vagina, she closed her gates to the world
Blocking entry to all that veered close
Including herself
There was no knight in shining armor that swooped me off my feet and into the land of orgasm

When I turned sixteen, my dad put his hand on my quivering shoulder
Looked me straight in my bug eyes
In a tone still plagued by the crisp belt of his father’s and that before him
Оставайтесь чистыми
Stay pure


The love of her black body is characterized by 29.1% of African American women experiencing “intimate partner violence”

Rape of her black body, stalking of her entity, assault of her soul

The love of her Asian body is characterized by 60% of immigrant Korean women surveyed report being battered by their husbands

The love of her Latina body is 48% reporting that their “lover”’s violence against them has increased since coming to the land of opportunity

The love of her Native body reports that they expect higher rates of violence on their bodies than any other minority group

The love of all of her bodies has been hit The American Dream

Pushed down against the linoleum floor by colonialism

Smacked across the face with a beer can by the subjugation of their race that permeates itself in intraracial violence

The love of my white body expects the support, validation and equality of all bodies without even loving all of hers

Sophia Pouzyrev is a first-year student in the College of Arts and Sciences at Boston University. She is often mistaken on the streets for Velma. She is a lover of the arts. Beyond poetry she takes part in undergraduate theater as well as improvisational comedy. You may see her conducting tours often around Boston University campus wearing a bright red sweater and screaming at prospective students. She hopes to continue to take part in poetry beyond the WR150 world and keep writing.