At a Clam Cabana carpark,
Allan’s asthma attack alarms Mara.
Allan hacks and hawks. Spasms, falls. Hands gnash
at asphalt cracks, rasp at sand straws, claw a blank blank.
Mara clasps Allan. Wharf rats smash a schnapps flask,
jackdaws gawk, cars pass, blat and blast,
a cab armada Mara can’t flag . . .
At last! Swabs and stats! Plasma! Sharps!
Black damask armbands and glass lasagnas amass.
Alack, alas, Pappa’d want a basalt slab, Alma crabs.
Alack, alas, Pappa’d want calla garlands, Alma smarms.
Alack, alas, Pappa'd want a Bach psalm, Alma adds.
What Mara sang was a raw, harsh chant:
Allan, Allan.
Image: ehow
intriguing. i am not sure who is who...if the names are personalities or other people...asthma sucks...had it as a kid...
ReplyDeletehas the feel of a chant
ReplyDeletehaha...now you have my tongue in a knot... smiles... cool work on the sounds and word clusters...ugh and asthma def. sucks
ReplyDeleteAsthma attacks are scary things...you certainly got those sound effects down. Nice work!
ReplyDeleteClever prose. There is a lot here to process.
ReplyDeleteCunning coiled construction here, a hypnotic weave on words containing "awe." Awesome stuff.
ReplyDeleteI can't believe you actually pulled this off--I thought about attempting a same-vowel poem, but it seemed incredibly difficult. "Wharf rats smash a schnapps flask, jackdaws gawk, cars pass, blat and blast." Very cool!
ReplyDeleteWhoa - this has the compact tightness of being in a crisis. It reads with a touch of panic, and of fear, and the heightened sense of everything. Well done!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Nico, quite a feat of story telling within the restrictions. My favorite line is also the wharf rats . .. Thanks for joining us.
ReplyDelete