Lafayette College's Literary Magazine
Hello! And welcome to The Marquis website! In an age of Nooks and other E-readers we have decided to hop on the bandwagon and make our website digital! This is a website not only for people who love to read and write, but for people who love drawing or photography.
Love to read? Go check out our archives! Want to send something to The Marquis but want help editing? Send it to us at firstname.lastname@example.org and we will help you edit on our Feedback Corner! Love art? Check out our gallery!
To learn more about The Marquis come to our meetings. We meet every Thursday from 7-8 in Pardee 113.
Feel free to submit any piece of writing or artwork at themarquis.lafayette.edu.
HIGHLIGHT OF THE WEEK:
Name: Christine Allen
Major/Year: English/Psych, 2017
What is the last book you read?
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
If you were to receive a gift tomorrow, what would you like to get?
A long cardigan
What is the song that has been stuck in your head this week?
Deck the Halls
Is Disney World really just a human trap set up by a mouse?
I hope so...
Who would star in the movie of your life?
In reality Ellen Page; However, if I could choose, it would be Jennifer Lawrence
If you could be a consultant, what kind would you be and why?
"How to be a burrito" --just let people wonder ;)
Just beneath my fake
fur-lined slippers, that I sometimes call skippers,
there are wool socks
They have treated me wonderfully.
I am indebted to them
even in the summer,
even when I have forgotten about them
and painted my toenails red.
Just beneath my socks
are my feet,
by some volcanic rock from
my country invaded
during a war no one talks about.
I am no expert of history
or anatomy or silence--
I can't name the bones of my body
or the muscles that pull
me out of bed on cold mornings.
I wish I knew better,
not a scientist's Latin phrase
wrapping the ivory of my toes
or my bra size, not my IQ or how
my stomach turns into something
unhappy and weak
whenever I've eaten too much
or seen something
I can't use for months.
I wish I knew myself
as an arm you'd run your
fingers across on a Sunday morning
as you write something
beautiful above your French pillows
that say "de rien, de rien"
which means you're welcome,
you're welcome, but also
of nothing, nothing, nothing