According to my Receptionist on the Verge archives, I am supposed to do a Dramatic Monologue this week. I love writing these, and I’ve always been good at it. Back in college, I had the best one in my poetry class and got an A+. It was about an old, cat lady. For a fridge poem, I wrote a monologue from the perspective of the break room fridge on New Year’s Eve, titled The Fridge’s Resolution. Both of these poems are in this blog post from January 2011. Joie did a lovely illustration for it, too. I loved this one.
I was having trouble getting started with my poem this week. I was playing with a few ideas that were not quite panning out. Then, I was assigned a subject/inspired by my friend Tim Donner. The conversation went a little like this:
Tim: How about a log that is alone?
Prentice: Poor log!
Tim: Hence Mono…
Prentice: Done! Doing that!
Tim: Look at the gold I’m giving you!
Prentice: Oooh! It could be a log with Mono!
Prentice: Yup. I’m going double literal!
So, Tim, this one’s for you, Buddy. Enjoy, Everybody!
The Mono Log
I was once a lively, healthy tree,
with muscular branches,
and luscious leaves,
but I have fallen,
and now I’m just a Mono Log.
I’m not sure how a tree like me,
was infected with the kissing disease,
maybe it was from that dainty Dogwood.
The quiet ones are always knotty,
or that Cypress succubus.
Why am I such a sap for bad girls?
That Evergreen was quite obscene,
and I was barking mad,
to even touch that Bradford Pear.
I should have known there was a reason she smelled so bad.
I doubt it was that slender Pine,
or that apple bottom Apple Tree,
and it definitely wasn’t that Magnolia cougar,
the older ones’ blooms are usually clean.
But now I have these knobby nodes,
and a rash and a fever,
and I was so weak I hit the ground,
and no one was around,
and yes, I made a sound.
My womanizing days are done now…
Damn my pollination!
I was a social tree, but now
I am just,
a lonely, Mono Log.