Poetry by Camille Norvaisas

     Billy Bergen CC




What I Would Say To My Five-Year-Old Self

Don’t worry. You will learn how to spell your last name.
If you eat it enough, you will come to like broccoli.
Stay away from the one with the invisible monkey. Don’t let him tickle you.
Christopher is a good boy, he will be your friend for life.
When you’re eighteen, join the navy, study anything medical.
Don’t date an attractive man. He will break your heart.
Marry a kind man. Don’t break his heart.
One of the greatest loves in your life will be a dog.
Despite the many heartbreaks you will come into your strength.





What My Five-Year-Old Self Would Say To Me

Stop thinking that things should have been different.





I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll

Every morning Joan Jett’s gravelly voice 
would command my attention from the stereo 
of dad’s coffee-brown Cordoba. Songs like 
Private Eyes and Physical were also popular 
but didn’t have the same badassness. 

I would sing along to every word as the car 
reached that familiar stretch of Knights Road 
on the drive to 7th grade. Dad never spoke much.
 
Most days he’d smell of a sick sweetness
and I’d crack my window for air. Sometimes 
he’d throw up in his left hand and dump it 
on the floorboard next to his seat. 

He always let me pick the radio station 
and never told me to stop when I made known 
the ending lyrics over and over and over, 
always anticipating the change at the finale. 
It felt good to get it right.

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Camille Norvaisas’s poems explore fleeting moments of tragedy, beauty, and introspection via themes of identity, nature, and emotional resilience. She is currently pursuing her MFA in creative writing at Arcadia University where she serves as associate editor for Marathon Literary Review. Her first book is, "Rare As The Kotuku." Insta & X: @camillepoetry