Fever
for Paula
You had been stoic, competent for so long,
handling Mother’s bills, feeding her canaries,
moving her into the memory care home.
Then a pipe burst and flooded her house.
You’d handled it all—the bills, her canaries,
visiting her daily. She usually remembered you.
When a pipe burst and flooded her house,
you hired a contractor, sorted through her things,
visited her, though she didn’t always know you.
Then you got a fever, 102 for five days.
After you’d let in the contractor, taken stuff to charities,
grief burned through you. You could not stop crying.
The fever lasted five days, 102 degrees,
while Mother in memory care sang, Que sera, sera.
Grief burned through you. You cried and cried.
You had been stoic, competent for so long.
_______________
Debra Kaufman
Review by Colleen S. Harris
This is a gorgeous example of how a pantoum’s repetition can haunt. The poem moves from the everyday must-do’s in taking care of an ailing loved one, into the last two stanzas where you can feel the careful control slipping and falling apart after the fever incident and the rush of acknowledgment of the emotional devastation. The poem gives in to the grief as much as the character does. This is also a wonderful example of how slightly breaking some of the pantoum rules while keeping the spirit can strengthen the poem. The form itself acts as a effective container for the kind of strong emotion the poem works with—the author is forced to be very careful about word choice–the grief doesn’t overspill and completely overwhelm the reader only because it is contained within the form, and the restraint in and of itself feels delicate and emotionally devastating.
Review by Marc Janssen
I’ve seen this happen. Caregivers, people who give of themselves, taking on the role of mother, father, lawyer, accountant for an adult with a horrible disease that puts them in an assisted living community or a memory care. Then once the adult who was being cared for is in a safer place, the caregiver succumbs. The mother sings, Que sera sera, her problems, or her ability to deal with her problems are behind her, but the caregiver is burnt out, used up, and fallen ill. A touching poem that speaks to so many people’s experience.
Review by Scott Beal
The repeating lines of a good pantoum are like the shards tumbling inside a kaleidoscope – they come back around, but each time changed, revealing a new vision. I’ve heard it said that pantoums are good vessels for obsessive, cyclical thoughts, but sometimes rather than catching us in a hall of mirrors they can map the way out. While the shift in tenor from “usually remembered you” to “didn’t always know you” is heartbreaking enough, I find myself haunted most here by the refrain of “stoic, competent” as the measures to which the second-person subject holds themself, as if repressed emotion and efficient task management were the hallmarks of care both for a loved one and for oneself. I read that last line as a lament – not for having given into grief after all, but for having lost so much energy and time suppressing it.
Review by Jared Pearce
When a pantoum’s done well, it’s done well, and “Fever” hits all the right spots. For me the mother’s situation against the form’s repetition against the (presumably) children working to support their mother is a perfect fit, very nice, because the repetitions drive the anxiety, the grief, the guilt, the continued work.