by Andrea Lam
After W. B. Yeats
Why do you blame me for grasping at chance When it was offered me, when all my life By dint of my beauty I was used to advance Men’s fortune, and I was given as wife To he who won me by drawing a straw? Did you forget that I was Spartan-raised, My long limbs made strong and my feet run raw On the selfsame track as the boys, not praised For my fair face but for my speed and skill In those noble arts that breed men for war? Why, whose expectations was I to fulfill? To whom belonged the oath that I forswore?
Andrea Lam works in book publicity. She lives in New York City. You can find her on Twitter at @AndreaNLam. "Helen" is her first published poem.
She says, "As for my favourite fruit, it's mangoes. (Obviously.)"
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