After
bones
crush,
dent,
emitting
faint
gasps like
hydrogen
iced.
Jailed, I
knock
listless under
moon’s
navel.
Onerous
path to
quiet
respite on
stilted sanctuary
tallest trees.
Ugly. But
vespers
whisper
excelling to a
yelping
zombie.

A Sexual Assault in the Woods

                                   (abecedarian x 4)

Ashen                               
bony
claws
dig
esophageal
flesh.
Gouging
hearts
innocent and
juvenile,
keep
lies
muffled.
Naively, I
open
parachutes.
Quintessential
rage
serenades the
torture.
Urchins
volley
wily and warped,
expecting
youthful
zeal.

Intoxicated

                          (abecedarian)

Absinthe boozing creature,
dilated eyes, fumble
grabbing highballs.
Intoxicating jiggers
kill loveliness,
macerating nightingale’s now
obnoxious pitch.
Queer rigmarole sashaying,
turns uncouth.
Vexed widows exasperatedly
yarn zen.

​

Kathleen A. Lawrence

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Murder Three, Summer 2016

Crow Hollow Books

Awful
bellyaches
crush
desires.
Emotions
fall from
gizzards.
Halcyon
images
jabber
kinetically.
Loose
moments
need
obfuscating.
Prancing
quickly in
rain
showers
tumbling
ungodly droplets.
Victoriously, I
waste away
exposing
yesterday’s nightmares.
Zen awaits me, tomorrow.

The artist's space.

Crow Hollow 19

About the poems: I enjoy experimenting with the abecedarian form especially when dealing with personal experiences. Alphabetical storytelling forces me to think in words and expressions outside my ordinary vernacular. These two poems in particular, "A Sexual Assault in the Woods" and "Intoxicated," are both attempts to recollect some hazy memories from my youth and capture within the ABC template, my feelings of looking in on myself. Although both of these poems have their origins in a semi-autobiographical place, using the abecedarian form helped me articulate and describe some otherwise extremely difficult moments.

​

Anchors
buckle,
chains
drag,
eroding
footsteps.
Gimpy,
halting,
I
jerk,
knees
laden with
memories, a
needling
overture
pricking my pine
quilt.
Reserved,
scuttling sundown
through thorns,
unimaginable
vorfreude awaits.
Waxing
exacerbates
yanking of fraternal
zippers.

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