Poetry by Myna Wallin

                    ​Øyvind Holmstad CC




The Veil


Mania lifts you, a soft sea 
breeze filling your dress.
On one shoulder, a dove.
You stand, irresistible.

Prospero appears, sleight of hand
feats of the impossible.
You hear stranger’s thoughts, time slows 
down as your thoughts speed up. 
Even when alone, you can hear 
voices, whispering. You can see 

beyond the veil--
grasp abstractions, like God, 
Truth, Happiness. Voilà, you are cunning 
as Cleopatra, willing to die 
by your own hand 
rather than relinquish your superior 

powers. Mania promises everything:
success, allure, boundless energy, profound 
insights—sadly, soon lost like sandcastles 

in the tide. Now, it is worse than ever 
because you had a glimpse behind 

the veil. Eventually, nothing remains 
but murky confusion, dank
vapour that sticks
to you like a wet black cloak. 





Snake Eyes


Crazed, lacking a sense of time    direction.
Time fluid, slowing down
speeding up without warning.

                 Some suicidal ideation but no specific plans.

My brother    sister visit 
from US universities, offering 
a hearty dose of pragmatism, pitying 
eyes darting away.

                She has no abnormalities in cognition, 
                perception or speech.

Depression, my nihilist 
passenger, offered drugs, persuading 
me nothing was worthwhile, especially 
existence—this Kafkaesque trial.

                She says her mother was ‘erratic, paranoid, 
                and hysterical.’ 

My father’s brown eyes 
helpless, confused, placed his hope 
in the doctors, experts
who medicated me into a near coma.

               The patient appeared well dressed and well groomed. 

In drama school one of my instructors 
took phenobarbital: We never knew what 
she would do or say. She’d lose 
her balance or fall asleep 
in the middle of a sentence. 

              No evidence of psychomotor agitation.

She wasn’t surprised when I wore 
my dead mother’s fox fur hat 
or sunglasses to class, doing 
my best Audrey Hepburn. 
But she did ask 
which drugs I was on.


​

Myna Wallin is a Toronto, Ontario, author and editor. She has had three books published: a collection of poetry, A Thousand Profane Pieces (Tightrope Books, 2006) and a novel, Confessions of A Reluctant Cougar (Tightrope Books, 2010) followed by her second poetry book, Anatomy of An Injury (Inanna Publications, 2018). “Confessions” was longlisted for the ReLit Award in 2010. Myna’s poetry has won two honorable mentions: in 2009 she received an Honorable Mention in the CV2 2-Day Best Poem Prize, and in 2010 she also received an Honorable Mention in the Winston Collins/Descant Prize for Best Canadian Poem. Wallin’s poem was chosen for the League of Canadian Poets’ Poem-in-Your Pocket-Day, 2018.

Recent poetry of Wallin’s appeared in Vallum Magazine, The Quarantine Review, Sledgehammer Literary Magazine, and the Miramichi Reader. Myna has a master’s degree in English from the University of Toronto. Mynawallin.com