Poems from TargaryenGirl
My name is Alena, and I’m a Creative Writing major and Philosophy minor in the first semester of my sophomore year at New England College. After college I’ll probably do Peace Corps or something along those lines, and then go to grad school to get my MFA in Poetry. When I grow up (never!) I wanna be a travel writer— think Anthony Bourdain, but a little cuter and a lot less drunk.
I enjoy writing and performing poetry, feminism-ing, fangirling, laughing at jokes that aren’t funny (which usually I’ve just told), procrastinating homework in favor of blogging, and sing-yelling to Mumford & Sons songs and show tunes with my friends.
I.
“Or maybe I’m just
speaking too highly
of my scrawny ass...”
he says, perching
on the end of my
bed in his undies.
his ass really is...
And suddenly it hits me like a punch in the gut
that I can BE all these beautiful things I read:
I can cut off my hair and wear fishnet...
I found my voice
and, boy, it’s pissed.
How dare you use me
how dare you make me think
this could ever be something
other than whatever it...
You are loved.
Forget what mama said
when she was angry
because you didn’t agree.
Turn away from that
boyfriend you had,
the one who...
weakness
in my lungs
in my ribs
and I don’t
want to understand
“Here we go again!”
I’ve been over this in my head
thousands of times: I’m...