Snow Bear...Berkeley 1971 C/C?

Question

It hit me right away that she was a
     female Boo Radley slithering ghost like
     along Kathryn's kitchen wall at midnight.
  
     I'd heard about her,but never saw her
     until that night in the communal house
     when I went for tea and toast.

     White robed and alabaster skinned,
     her blue veins blinked when I turned 
     the lights on .

     She stared from deep, purple edged sockets.
     Her skull face taut from hunger,
     hands enfolded to a fist upon her breast.

     Anorexia was slowly erasing her.
     A phobic fear of elimination caused her
     to shun all but mouse portions of food.

     Quickly I lowered my eyes,mumbled a soft hello
     and asked if she would like some chamomile tea,
     being told that was all anyone ever saw her swallow.

     She nodded, sat at the farthest end of the marred wooden table,
     I prepared the tea and pushed a mug half way across;
     wraith like fingers reached out and slid it closer.

     Slowly I buttered two toasts,cutting off crusts,
     dotting with honey and dividing each
     into four tiny squares.

      She watched me like a white owl would
      as I chewed,savored,swallowed.
      I ate four,washed my mug and left the room.

      I heard her chair scrape,then the tinking
      of fingernails on the plate as she reached for what was left.
      Then the faucet ran,and I saw the light go out from beneath my door.

       Kathryn found her huddled and shivering beneath
       an overhang of a Photo Mat booth 
       in a rare Berkeley rain.

       All she possessed was in a cloth satchel
       slung over one shoulder and a raggedy
       violin case glued to her left hand.

       She played for loose change over
       in the Haight,and I wondered what she bought
       with her meager money.

       She was mute by choice,although sometimes
       late at night we could hear her crying and Kathryn's 
       soft voice urging her to have a little soup.

       Once we heard her screaming in the bathroom,
       her intestines trying to be loosed,her phobia
       fighting back -
       afraid to see
       afraid to smell
       afraid to be unclean.
       Plainly,she was dying.

       Finally,a flush,
       an hour shower,
       and she padded back to her room.

       Her premature gray hair was dry as straw
       and fell like silver pine needles to the moonlit
       deck where she brushed her thinning hair.

       Soon a plaintive song wafted in from the back yard.
       It may have been Brahms,but who was I to know?
       Sadly soft and lilting,it was so skillfully played on that fretless instrument.

       Kathryn found her family,left a message
       where they might find her,as she had disappeared,
       I forever wondered if it was, in fact,too late.

       Oh,Snow Bear,
       what a fierce name you bequeathed
       your frail,fragile self.

       Your night song will linger forever in my mind's ear.

Dave · Accepted Answer

Intriguing poem, very well told.
You make the reader care about her and react to her troubles.
That is all you can ask for in a poem.

? · Answer

Gems

I was and am deeply moved (not intended as a pun) over this piece
and gather this is the long one you mentioned in your answer to my
poem.  You ARE, a faithful reader of my poems, no matter how good
or bad they are, you support my efforts, and that milady, is all I want, 
to be able to get through this life with a modicum of appreciation, that
I, no matter how bad, was passionate enough, or nutty enough, to 
draw a smile on your face.

That is what you do here.  The three line stanzas, especially condensed
the way you have manifested, was a sapient move with a longer narrative
as this.  I love the use of first person, for you have been able to convey
your imagery through the screen as if I were in the kitchen eating, or sadly,
in the bathroom.  The following may be "stinky" but is my favorite stanza, 
for this is one:

Once we heard her screaming in the bathroom,
her intestines trying to be loosed,her phobia
fighting back -
afraid to see
afraid to smell
afraid to be unclean.
Plainly,she was dying.

Descriptive imagery you did not fail, but you are pouring out
your heart for this woman, as you do with all your pieces, 
and I applaud you.

I would love to say more but I drag on too much.  Later

? · Answer

An absolutely enthralling poem.
Written with assured, paced meter like a heartbeat.
The length at first glance was off-putting,
but after the first three stanzas I was completely engrossed
A fascinating, diaphanous write with
admirable story flow.
A ghost story with one twist...the ghost lives
and she herself is haunted.
Suspenseful, tension building stanzas
with a magnetic finale.
Super poem, Gemini.
* * * * * Stars to you.

? · Answer

I was mesmerized, but I would make one minute change. I would not use the word "hair" twice in this stanza:

Her premature gray hair was dry as straw
 and fell like silver pine needles to the moonlit
 deck where she brushed her thinning hair.

I would say "mane" or "locks" the first go round, or just say,
"Her premature gray was dry as straw"

Otherwise I was drawn in, moved and touched.

the cheese whisperer · Answer

Great imagery.  Hair falling like pine needles was a masterful touch. 
Terrific poem.

cassie58 · Answer

Wonderful poem Gem, kept my interest all the way through. Beautifully told. Take a bow. 1971, the year my daughter was born, there lies another sad story.

? · Answer

Snow Bear...you take my breath away....with grief for all that you would be but could not.
Gem...this brings back faint memories of my Dad's music teacher...who taught him the violin and who wilted away with only her music for her food. In those days, I doubt anyone knew about anorexia...I remember my Grandma telling me how she would send meals that would be promptly fed to this teacher's cats...who knew?  Lovingly written...with so much of compassion, thank you.

Joel · Answer

wow! Flicking back through the poem I realise how long it was, but you masterfully captivated me the whole way through! Very beautiful and unusual, I'm so glad my meager poem inspired this! Well done :-)

Anonymous · Answer

A true story told with depth. (At least it depicts what I have witnessed in real life events).

PANDORA Πανδώρα · Answer

Brilliant...you made her so real, which of course she is.
'Living', in so many others who suffer in the same way...

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Snow Bear...Berkeley 1971 C/C?

10 Answers