Anatomy of an Injury
poems by Myna Wallin

100 Pages
May 01, 2018
Poetry All Titles



Anatomy of an Injury poems by Myna Wallin

Bringing together the themes of death, of gender and sexuality, the poet creates a speaker whose language and experience, linked from poem to poem, reflects the true complexity of a woman's perspective. Death is a prevalent theme; anxiety, fear and paranoia simmer throughout the poems. Regret, too, is a recurrent theme, as previous experience defines us even by its absence. The societal construct of womanhood, questions of aging, and female stereotypes are opportunities for an analysis of women’s roles and the speaker’s need to subvert modern ideals of femininity and sexuality. The poems often employ satire or self-parody and wry humour to suggest that a woman's understanding of her options in the twenty-first century, in light of the many waves of feminism, is always in flux and always challenging.

Myna Wallin is an author and editor living in Toronto. She is the author of a novel, Confessions of a Reluctant Cougar (2010) and a volume of poetry, A Thousand Profane Pieces (2006). Her poetry and short stories have appeared in numerous literary journals and anthologies including Contemporary Verse 2, Existere, Descant, Literary Review of Canada, Matrix, Rampike, 50+ Poems about Gordon Lightfoot, and Where the Nights are Twice as Long: Love Letters of Canadian Poets.

Reclining Woman in Polka Dot Dress, 2014

     Twelve artists’ twelve versions of you.
     You are a hot devil-red creature with a worried brow
     sinuous, impressionistic, Victorian-doll faced.
     You are the reclining woman on canvas.

     Silk fabric rising above naked knees,
     décolletage dipping. Little else to suggest immodesty.
     If you were Colette or Anais Nin
     you’d have worn less. Marilyn—nothing but her Channel No. 5.

     He glides from student to student,
     Yes, good, go warm or cool—find the balance,
     find a detail of interest, blow that up.
     They scrutinize you with great concentration.

     Your back begins to ache, but you keep your gaze
     focussed ahead, on the middle distance
     as though you were a dancer en pointe
     holding her balance/ her composure/her breath—
     one giddy pirouette.

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