Jack & Jill I:
a double reverse abcedarian

Roger W. Hecht

A breathless clarity decided everything.
Fog gone. Heavenly images. Jack kicked
lumped mud neatly over, past quickened
roots, stems. The trees' undervalued visions
were wasted. Xeroxed yellow. Zilch. Zeroed-out.
Yet, xenon-whitened vowels undid that
Stalwart's rocky qualm. Perhaps
"other-natured" might license kindness:
Jill's irreducible hermetic gravity
Finessing Eros' discernable claim.
Beauty's architect.