At least a decade before John Pratt "invented" the "chiastic sonnet," I wrote the following. I know of no prior example of the structure, but am too modest to assume I "invented" it, and assume that one must exist somewhere.
..................In Memory: Basilio C. Molina
........ Ten thousand miles we'd come, and just in time
........ to watch him die--this father to my wife
........ I know so slightly. How strange it is to watch:
........ in the room where the old man lies past hurt
........ children play cards. I have so much to learn.
........ Watching their game, I think hard of the child
........ we left at home so that she could be schooled
........ in wood shop, algebra, and French--schooled
........ in kinder things than death. Yet could a child
........ encounter death more kindly?
........encounter death more kindly?...Then I learn
........ how deeply quiet words can sometimes hurt.
........ “Do you want anything?” I ask, and watch
........ as he looks first at me, then at my wife:
........ “I want to see your daughter one last time.”
And I remember reading decades ago a poem by a relatively minor 17th or 18 century poet with a rhyme scheme of:abcdefghijklmmlkjihgfedcba. {I forget exactly how long it was, but it seemed interminable, and the rhymes were neither immediately apparent nor very effective.}
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