Poem: Acrostics Are Cheesy


Gee, an ant in a sandwich,

wine on linen, your

hair in my mouth.

You, with your short legs

and moustache and lack

of appetite.

I stand and dance,

entertain but trip on the

checkered cloth.

Tea in the basket shivers,

a school of orphans.

A dog lowers its haunches


Are your yawns from my conversation

or from the bread?

Es juebebes—drinking Thursday,

you say.

Tee shirt underneath your navy,

no bloody marinara stains.

Are you lying face-down

because you can’t hold your liquor

or because you would like us to be

horizontal together now?

I take my ash

and mark your forehead.

In some lights you look

right through me.

Gee, a mosquito in a mojito,

wrinkled checkered cloth

in laundry basket.

Es juebebes, mon cher, es juebebe.

By Ella

I am an undergraduate junior studying creative writing. I am interested in short fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction and professional writing.

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