Sunday, October 10, 2010

FOUR-YEAR-OLD KAITLIN- An ongoing series (13 poems)

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Labels: Kaitlin Saturday, September 25,
Sunday, July 25, 2010


The body of four year old Kaitlin Jones found today
Mutilated, raped, and murdered in unknown order
Kaitlin had been missing for three weeks
Police had called in the FBI after an Amber Alert failed and no leads uncovered
A search party had been organized by friends and family
Her mother screamed when night fell and Kaitlin was not found
It had been expected the strong-willed little girl was hiding
Kaitlin had been under the care of Dr. Goode, PhD and categorized as
oppositional defiant
Her grandfather thought she was just a little girl who knew what
she did and did not want
But even he had to agree that something was wrong when Kaitlin was not found in any
of her secret places where she often stayed for hours on
her own
The family was never under suspicion of any foul play
Neighbors responded to the mother’s screams, coming together
in their nightclothes
Making coffee, flyers and organizing search parties, some brought their untrained dogs on long leashes, others stayed with the family
keeping up a stream of platitudes
The day Kaitlin disappeared she had been given
a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
with the crusts on and the jelly rather than the peanut butter on top
Kaitlin had fallen to the floor shocking the new baby-sitter with her
A moment later she ran from the kitchen into her room and slammed the door
Kaitlin’s room was on the ground floor
In case of such a melt-down, the baby-sitter had been instructed to let Kaitlin “be”
No one noticed four-year-old Kaitlin climb from her window
and drop
to the ground
Where she ran across the field toward the wooded
hiking trail that snaked into the woods
Along the highway unseen but heard
rushing in the distance
beyond the trees
Where a young man had parked his car, walked for a while and waited for
something to happen - Like
a four-year-old girl who didn’t like her peanut butter and jelly sandwich

(note: for those not familiar with the "inverted pyramid form the most important details are in the first lines moving in descending level of consequence)

Thursday August 26, 2010


They sat there
side by side
in the fall sun
late day spilling
onto the papers
shimmer polished
on the doctor's

desk of cognitive
They sat there only
as a favor to their
family's urging
his eyes drifting to
the billowing sails
of a model ship
wondering at the thousands
of tiny tied knots
she almost dozing
stroking the soft
silk fabric of the chair
in the office of the doctor
in the late afternoon sun
fall out the latticed windows
bright trees dropping leaves
lazy - and the light spilling
into the words drifting
over them as their child
lied quiet as was her nature
just her nature
quiet and limp limbed
across their laps
sweet drool sparkling in the
light as the doctor
delicately attempted
the first incision
of all possibility

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Finger poised above
tender child flesh
upturned neck flops
in impossible angles

The finger has touched
his own daughter's neck
dazzled by its softness

The father finger hovering
here postponing the inevitable
descent, hoping for warmth

and finding as it probes in
gloved professionalism
only the expected cold
Posted by Dr. Pearl Ketover Prilik (PKP) at 11:20 PM
Labels: PA Prompt- Cold


There can be
no words of comfort
for murdered Kaitlin
hair washed and
lovingly cleaned
dressed in crisp white
and arranged
fetchingly on
beloved pink sateen

There can be
no words of comfort
for Kaitlin pretty
under that small
shining white
casket lid

No comfort in the heaps of
blooms thrown in
helpless profusion
in the gaping hole
of what he did

There can be
no words of comfort
as Kaitlin in cruel irony
is returned back to
the black earth
where she was found

Her mother shivers
holding air
chilled by warm
as the tiny girl
is covered by the ground

Stone faced
at talk of
loving arm's
celestial embrace

No comfort for the
loved ones as they
lean one into the other
a mass of tangled
torment touching
among averted eyes
not one who can them face

Four- year- old Kaitlin
found sprawled kill raped still
in the damp wood
a child who would
have her peanut butter
sandwich made just
the way it should

Words of innocence
above that now covered casket
babble non-sense on
a ruffled breeze

Kaitlin last looked upon
the face of evil incomprehensible
etched into her eyes
with photographic ease

Rest sweet Kaitlin
perhaps for you this can be so
in the woods of your
death sweet jasmine may
inexplicably grow

Drift sweet Kaitlin tumbling
in the sparkled sunlight
on the soft wings of
white butterflies
take flight

There sweet Kaitlin one with
each petal, dancing dust mote
salted sea drop and all
known and more

sweet Kaitlin
embracing the ripped
grief-dumbed hearts left

Inspired by "BOP" FORM ...... 3 stanzas 8-6-8 with a refrain


"Four year-olds need supervision"
"And fresh air and freedom
to explore stuff
to think stuff
to find stuff on their own
not like the way you were raised"

Barefooted Kaitlin lies stone still in the darkening woods.

"There's nothing wrong with parents'
caring for their children"
"Like mine didn't - that's it right?
You called me wild child, liked me then
Liked me well enough - when I was running to you
I never seen you looking for my parents when we got busy."
"As usual, that has nothing to do with what I've been saying.

Barefooted Kaitlin lies stone still in the darkening woods.

Flushed faced faced off, they stop - and listen
to the quiet
a breeze blows on their hot skin, on their pounding chests
as together they look to the open door
look through and beyond over the empty lawn rolling to the woods
willing a shimmered peal of crystal laughter - a game-of-hide-n-seek
as they run racing to nowhere
together for the very last time calling her name to the gulping wind

Barefooted Kaitlin lies stone still in the darkening woods.
Posted by Dr. Pearl Ketover Prilik (PKP) at 9:35 AM 0 comments:

October 1, 2010


Little Kaitlin
skips and sings
in the shining rain
barefoot in the
cool green grass
never home will
she see
Posted by Dr. Pearl Ketover Prilik (PKP) at 4:37 PM 1 comments
Thursday, October 14, 2010


Little girl
in candy caned
there for the
born to
be broken
when freely
on a hot summer
day on the edge
of a cool dark wood...
there are rules
to be followed

Saturday, October 23,

As you lifted her
From her crib
Her swaddled blanket
Falling unwrapped away
Her lips swollen pursed
Into a rose budded heart
Until her eyes opened
And flashed with delight
A mere micro moment before
Her caterwauling shriek
Split the air as
Jagged shards threatened
Eardrums to pierce
But it was that sweet
Glint that stayed
Shining in her eyes
Determined in her eyes
To continue
Until ears bled
And then just when
Holding her arched rigid
In your shaking arms
You would begin to
feel the first fingertip of
Chill....she'd soften, nestle
boneless and rooting
Latch on to your full breast
One tiny hand of
Incomparably soft skin
Caressing yours
As with rose budded lips
She gently drained you
With that glint of manic
Determined delight
Shining through upturned lashes
**Sunday, October 31, 2010

PA Prompt- What I Love About...

What I love about murdered four-year-old- Kaitlin Jones
is her rising back to flesh from bones
her sweet curved cheek flushed as she ran
eyes sparkling toward dark forest she began

Kaitlin hair tousled catching last rays of the sun
Coyly catching my eye, peeking between fingers, did she run
Followed I her glee filled barefooted flight
Into a nightmared darkened silenced night

What I love about murdered four-year-old Kaitlin Jones
is her rising again back to flesh from her bones.
Rising from the earth where she was found
Rising from her grave in the ground
To run back to me, smiling, barefoot tumbled, touseled fresh washed hair,
plump legs tight around my waist, arms wrap her alive forever there.
Entwined in purest shimmered light sparkling twirling mystic, magical pair
Posted by Dr. Pearl Ketover Prilik (PKP) at 4:17 PM 0 comments
Labels: Kaitlin


They sat in the car
he in his silly pom-pom
red wool hat
She leaning against the
seat imagining that
they could speak openly
about what they had lost
so recently
But he had his way, smiling through
Drenched in delusion that that she knew
She longed to pour him into her emptied heart
And fill the part that had been torn out apart
But between them they did by actions agree
on the subject of Kaitlin
they would muse only each to his and her own
separate, different, and silently

No one wants to listen
to me
that Kaitlin ran in
green fields and made
snow angels in the snow

No wants to listen
to me
that though "gone" still lives
they cannot and do not want to know

If we meet, they turn their eyes
and look someplace
up on to my forehead
throw frozen smiles and babble on
with perhaps a mumbled reference to gone or passed
unspoken words scream at me "your daughter is forever dead."

And,if they can they quickly turn at a
single glimpse of me
walk quickly toward another way
if caught stammer smile oh so "obliviously"

No wants to listen
fearing talk of a four-year-old
who physically is dead
Most chilling is that
no one wants to listen
no one wants to hear
that my memories are
sweet and sparkling, finally beginning now to clear

Sunshined laughter
touseled hair, running
in the grass, those angels in
the snow

No one wants to
To how alive my forever
four-year-old continues
now to grow

No one wants to speak of
her, no one wants to know
Smiling, avoiding, dropping
in their wake seeds of ice
in my just warming heart to grow
and in their self-protective shunning
leave her dead with me
No one wants to

No one wants to
It is they that keep
her dead and still and gone
trapped by their fear beneath
a forever thickly falling snow
It is they who will not allow her to
continue to shine and grow
Tragedy compounded, no one listens, asks
or shares a sweet remembered time
No one wants to

Each morning waking in
light that has no right
to shine so bright
filled with sudden hope
embrace yourself and
repeat on this fresh day
Forget what they say..

Forget statistics about
how soon children should
be found if they are to be
above the ground
Forget what they say
as night falls
hard and still
and from the emptiness
slither black thoughts
Whisper loud light
pouring through the
end of another day
Forget what they say

At each end of night and day
Hear her laughter, feel her
weight damp in sleep upon
your chest, wake easy and
go easy to your rest
Inhale her scent, shampoo
and days filled with green
grassed play
Continue to
Forget what they say



When does the time come
when a child's laughter
trailing off across green
wet summer grass
freezes into the ice
of winter, thaws again
into spring and still
echoes into summer.

When does the time come
when listening for the
laughter becomes a memory
rather than an anticipated
When does the time come
when hope is replaced by

Who determines the cross-road
when laughter dies
on decomposing lips
of a child
forever gone...

No comments:

Post a Comment