Cause of Death
_Because I chanced to be around
_The day when poor Melissa drowned,
They asked me to identify the body.
_A trifle over five-foot-four,
_With graphic body art galore,
There was no doubt that she had been a hottie.
_They mentioned in the news reports
_That she was very fond of sports
And almost never missed a football game.
_Without her presence in the bleachers
_Among the students and the teachers,
The hometown crowd will never be the same.
_To die that way seems such a pity
_When someone is so young and pretty,
And brimming with unlimited potential.
_The coroner, with practiced tact
_That made up for the skills he lacked,
Recorded that her death was providential.
_The autopsy revealed a tumor
_So large it threatened to consume her,
And would have caused excruciating pain.
_But that was mostly pure conjecture
_From someone who was wont to lecture
And view his doubters with complete disdain.
_When she went swimming all alone,
_It’s plausible she might have known
Already that she hadn’t long to live.
_She washed ashore upon the tide,
_And no one thought of suicide,
But first impressions aren’t dispositive.
C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press.
C.B. such a dark morose poem, yet there is a small ray of sunshine in the statement she will be missed. This seems like a heartfelt poem from personal experience with the sad need to identify the body. Your rhyme scheme and your use of “providential” and “dispositive” are effective and inspired.
No personal experience here, Roy. Just a purely fictive artifact. I’m glad the rhyme scheme and the diction appealed to you.
This poem is a perfect example of what the Germans call “Galgenhumor” (gallows-humor). It takes a depressing incident and turns it into a kind of sarcastically comic narrative. I recall a poem from many years back, where a judge at a murder trial pronounces a death sentence on the defendant (who is a chess grand master) by saying “Checkmate!”
The coroner in this piece is the heavy, for the poem’s speaker kicks him hard in three separate stanzas. It’s not necessary to get critically fancy here, but let’s do it anyway. The coroner is really a stand-in for a Death figure (like the Ghost of Christmas Future in Dickens’s “A Christmas Carol”). He supervises everything, he makes pompous announcements, and nobody really likes him. Despite this tone, the poem definitely comes across as funny, because Anderson presents small and humdrum facts about the deceased: her appearance, her life, her personality. These all make the event look like some hapless accident instead of a tragedy. And what ties the Galgenhumor together is Kip’s
rhyme of “tumor” and “consume her.” No matter what sympathy we feel for the girl, we can’t help laughing. Kip has also prepared the reader for this humor by describing the victim as
A trifle over five-foot-four
With graphic body art galore…
How can you not smile when reading that?
K.A.N.D!
Very interesting observations, Joseph, and I wish I could take credit for planning every device you mention in your analysis — but all that stuff just happens without any conscious control on my part, almost like automatic writing. If I ever tried to write a totally somber poem, I would probably be screwed. The coroner is not really a bad guy, but just someone who is a bit full of himself — we’ve all met people like that, and some of them are our relatives.
This is a really well-told story, with great foreshadowing that allows the reader to feel smart that he has figured it out.
Huh?! Cynthia, in this instance not even the writer has figured it out. If the reader has done so, then God bless us all.
Poor girl
Actually, Ray, she came from a wealthy family.
The Scottish poet John Davidson, had cancer and financial disaster when he drowned himself. He wouldn’t have made such a good story, with the plaintive touches of humor you supply, C. B, but he had recently written a good line, “Exempt from death is he who takes his life.” Buried at sea, R.I.P.
Except, Margaret, he should have written “exempt from dying.” If you take your own life you have elected death.
This is an absolutely fascinating poem, C.B. — a subject which seems like it would defy being poetic and yet you make it work. I think it works so well because of your mastery of tone. This could have been purely forensic and clinical; it could have been tragic and dramatic; it could have been depressing or sardonic or ponderous or even comical. I think Joe’s observation of “gallows humor” is spot-on. And yet it is not really a comic poem either. It is just a compelling story with a compelling mystery told with compelling language in a detached yet not uncompassionate way. It is moving yet dry-eyed. Had you made any tonal missteps, it could have collapsed. Instead, it’s a master class in how important getting the tone right is. The rhymes and structure (particularly the length) all serve this important goal.
And thank you for the “live”/”dispositive” rhyme. That’s one for the ages.
I think, Brian, that it’s more a matter of tone having mastered me. Rhymes are fun, especially when you get to use a word you almost never use.
“Cause of Death” is beautifully written and highly amusing – so amusing, I will admit to feeling guilty for laughing… my seemingly inappropriate laughter got me thinking about why I like this poem so much. For me, this poem exposes the hollowness of public sympathy and official rhetoric. The tone of mordant irony kicks syrupy sentimentality to the wind with poetic aplomb and a wry smile. I believe there’s more truth in this poem than those laughing or glowering at its unorthodox approach to death would care to admit. C.B., thank you for entertaining me, disturbing me, and making me think long and hard. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the journey!
Guilt does not become you, Susan, but you are never shy about sharing your feelings. Though I, too, will miss that poor girl, that doesn’t mean that I shall forever after forgo laughter. Everybody dies eventually, which is the ineluctable cosmic joke.
Just finished reading the fulsome praise, e.g., “one for the ages”. Come now. I must live in an alternative universe. I thought it was an ok poem until the very last line which drops like a proverbial lead balloon.
You don’t understand Galgenhumor, Mr. Fradin. It is meant to be heavy, like a the falling blade of a guillotine or the drop of a convict when the gallows-trap opens.
“One for the ages” was meant to be taken with a slight smile — one which acknowledges that the compliment, though genuine, was somewhat hyperbolic. And it was a reference to Anderson’s use of a particularly toothsome rhyme — not the poem as a whole (though it is a poem which I find enjoyable and well-crafted.) My goodness, Mr. Fradin, where is your sense of humor?