DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE Poem: His Pen, by Xinying Elisa He

To the late First Lady, Jackie Kennedy
To my sister Sara and my cw teacher Ms. Bothwick

Your name was spoken by every person, in every tongue and in every place that November
afternoon.
At 1 pm the sun had already perished,
as a sign of respect, I assume,
for your wife’s horrific shrieks.
John! John! John!
I felt my body stiffen at the first bullet,
my limbs dry on the second,
your skin colden on the third.
At the time I was your most grand possession, your most obedient servant
And yet, no one was aware.
To the people you were hers
and in the evenings you were.
But on mornings you’d greet me with a lordly smile
working side by side
“To change the world” as you’d say.
I’d have your undivided attention
your most ostentatious affection
and utmost comfort as I sobbed on those busy nights.
I am devoted to you. Even after you’ve gone,
because in my world, your grip on my waist
was the only time I came alive.
They think it was your speeches that mattered.
The speeches that shook the world.
But they were all just echoes, weren’t they?
They screamed confidence but your letters were tender.
I was the only one who felt the tremor of your soul
in every stroke, in every moment of doubt or uncertainty.
I was your only darling,
your only duty.
When the world, including she, saw a leader,
only I knew the man behind the podium.
I saw your weaknesses.
I knew your fears and was present
for your quiet moments of contemplation.
We shared secrets that historians will never unveil.
We made history.
In those final moments, we shared
the crowd’s applause
as they turned to roars in an instant.
John.
4 letters or 7 strokes of cursive
plastered on every paper.
Montblanc,
but you weren’t the one clasping me this time.
Someone else wrote your name.
It’s hard to remember all I had felt that afternoon.
Afterall, nothing was written down.
Your blood splattered over her bright pink suit
and for a brief moment there was silence.
Grief in her eyes as I seized onto your pocket.
My crown glued to you,
detached from the rest of me
falling from your lap.
Together we lay motionless,
as we bled blue and red for our nation

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest