We Are Monica (Acrostic)

Article excerpt

-Monica Lewinsky

What if it were true? That in the

End, no matter what dress we look for,

All we have in our closets are blue ones?

Remember the surface area of the body?

Each one inch square can be bruised blue.

Maybe we know how to betray cloth, its

Old downy fibers are really our skin,

Nightmare after nightmare, it grows back,

It desires to be touched, and nerved, and

Caught. Maybe it is meant to be put on

And taken off, then put on and taken off.


What happened to the blue girl who

Entered into the meadow, the one we

Accused, then asked how it felt,

Rubbing our ears against her mouth for

Everything she would give, for what didn't

Matter- did his hand touch you there

Or there, did he control or tendril?

Nothing, she was to us, but how

I would still look if she rose one night,

Covet the night, listen for their lies,

And take joy in hearing her cries.


Who are we to say who belongs on

Earth? We hate the cold mornings

And the warm mornings. What we

Require we never get. We have the hots for

Everything. We aspire to be aspirers.

Maybe we were meant to fancy everything,

Or at least think each vowel in a word

Needs to exist. How many ways can we

Inch forward? We can walk towards, even

Crawl towards with no legs. But even then, we

Are still dependent on dirt and its filth.


Why did we spend our lives looking

Everywhere for what we have now, if

All we want is travel? The red leaves,

Regioning off our yards, not the responsible

Envelopes that stay on the trees, but

Maple leaves, the ones that giddily

Opt to follow rain, those opportunists,

Never accepting stasis. Maybe we all

Itch for twice, life. Watch a new

Checker who opens a line at a store,

And how fast we leave each other to get there.


We are done for then, or are we just

Erratic, like a tack, constantly moved

Around from paper to paper. A tack never

Reflects, a tack doesn't die for truth,

Expressing crisis at every new job. …