You took off your jewellery — / removing identity. ' Slipped on your mother’s fur pelt — / that soft second skin.
Poetry | Myna Wallin | Issue 40
Side Effects
Lithium—my saviour, mummified me in cotton batting, weightless. I leave softer footprints. The bloodhounds quiet, curl up at my feet. I feel blackness peel off the walls, and I am grateful. I stop fantasizing running into traffic, a swaying brown knot. My fingers begin to quake lifting a glass — a betrayal of tremors — a growing self-consciousness. A fear of being exposed, I wait until I have the all-clear to surreptitiously sip. But lithium salt made me water-thirsty, a notoriously unquenchable thirst. I learn a game of misdirection: Look please, look at anything, except the polar bear woman encased in ice with trembling hands.
Soft Second Skin
O starry starry night! This is how I want to die:/
into that rushing beast of night.
~Anne Sexton
1.
Did you think about your friend, Sylvia?
The two glasses of milk she left out.
Did you think about Virginia?
her stone-weighted, water-logged coat.
You took off your jewellery —
removing identity.
Slipped on your mother’s fur pelt —
that soft second skin.
You poured a vodka elixir,
locked yourself in the garage.
Nothing tentative about carbon monoxide;
night without end,
driving headlong into darkness
without morning.
Who found your wide-eyed
body at the wheel?
What an unsurprising legacy
for a self-doomed poet,
the seductive end you wrote about,
solution to fathomless grief.
2.
I wait for cold wind to stop.
I wait for dawn; I know it’s coming.
Sometimes I indulge in fantasy:
fraying rope, pills —
God knows I have enough.
But I can’t romanticize my own ending.
I’ve known others who orchestrated a finale —
a sharp intake of breath —
a sullen quiet afterwards.
3.
There was nothing singular about your exit,
your life turned into an old story,
left people who loved you
to figure out their forfeiture,
your readers to decode your departure.
“Side Effects” and “Soft Second Skin” © 2024 by Myna Wallin from The Suicide Tourist (Ekstasis Editions, 2024). Published with permission of the author.
Myna Wallin got her MA in English from the University of Toronto and is the author of A Thousand Profane Pieces and Confessions of a Reluctant Cougar (Tightrope Books, 2006 and 2010 respectively), as well as Anatomy of An Injury (Inanna Publications, 2018). She has a beautiful senior cat named Star, and at last count twenty-seven thriving houseplants.
The Suicide Tourist by Myna Wallin Ekstasis Editions, 2024
A significant challenge of bipolar illness is the difficulty in making coherent decisions; one becomes an unreliable narrator in one’s own life. In this mental health confessional, poems about depression, mania, suicidal ideation, and the challenge of living with these disabilities are tackled with naked honesty and deep humour. In The Suicide Tourist, Wallin supersedes the stigma surrounding mental illness and excavates the themes of anxiety, fear, instability, mortality, and ultimately, liberation.
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Hi Sheila--so glad you enjoyed them. I love them too. This is a fantastic collection!
A Haunting Exploration of Mortality and the Allure of Darkness in “Soft Second Skin”
Myna Wallin's poem "Soft Second Skin" is a masterful and unflinching exploration of the human experience, delving into the complexities of mortality, grief, and the seductive allure of darkness. With precision and nuance, Wallin navigates the treacherous terrain of suicidal ideation, paying tribute to the lives lost while confronting the reader with the harsh realities of such departures.
Wallin's poem begins with a devastating evocation of the poet's own contemplation of suicide, invoking the ghosts of Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf. The image of removing jewelry, symbolizing the shedding of identity, is particularly striking. The use of the mother's fur pelt as a "soft second skin" suggests a desperate quest for comfort and protection. The stark, unromanticized description of carbon monoxide's deadly efficacy serves as a jarring reminder of the irreversible consequences of such actions.
The second stanza presents a striking counterpoint, as the speaker waits for dawn, acknowledging the cyclical nature of life and death. The admission of fantasizing about escape through self-destruction is tempered by an inability to romanticize one's own ending. This tension between despair and resilience is expertly maintained, underscoring the complexity of suicidal ideation. Wallin's honest portrayal avoids sentimentalization, instead offering a raw and intimate glimpse into the mind of one struggling with life.
The final stanza confronts the aftermath of suicide, highlighting the devastating impact on loved ones and readers. Wallin astutely observes that the departed's life becomes "an old story," leaving others to grapple with the void left behind. The poem's conclusion, with its emphasis on decoding departure, serves as a powerful testament to the enduring power of art to make sense of the painful and inexplicable.
Myna Wallin's "Soft Second Skin" is a triumph of poetic craftsmanship, tackling a difficult subject with sensitivity, intelligence, and lyrical precision. Wallin's work is a testament to the transformative power of poetry to illuminate the darkest corners of human experience.
What I love most about Myna Wallin’s poetry is that any one can read and savour the insights she offers in her courageously intimate struggles with life. In "Soft Second Skin” the reader engages with its unflinching exploration of mortality. I would share this poem with others to foster greater understanding and empathy for those struggling with suicidal ideation and mental illness.