Slashed face, shredded cuticles,
The pain and final moan:
More broken now than beautiful-
You had to die alone.
Rarely do I feel it necessary to gloss over my own poetry. I believe that art (poetry included) should speak for itself and present a puzzle for a person to solve on their own. However, this poem is too short and simple to present without giving a reason to examine it further. This is why I want to explain what influenced me to write this poem and what connections it makes to other works. To better understand this poem, I point to two women who made major impacts in their professions: Edna St. Vincent Millay and Shannon "Savannah" Wilsey.
Millay was a renown poet who lived and died in the first half of the 20th century. She was a Pulitzer Prize winner and a respected feminist whose sonnets are especially anthologized and often depict love and relationships through her sassy tongue. Yet, of all of her great work, her most memorable is a short poem that anyone can memorize and interpret as live fast, die young:
"First Fig - Edna St. Vincent Millay"
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!
As for Wilsey, her career choice is something that many may find uncomfortable to discuss. Simply put, she was a highly successful porn actress who lived fast and died young in 1994 at the age of 23. Even outside of her industry she was a renowned beauty, but her life was littered with everything on the contrary. She was a drug addict; she was in massive debt; she suffered from depression. Her entire life, she was a beautiful and broken woman on a quick descent that came crashing down one night behind a white Corvette under the influence of alcohol. The single-person car crash resulted in a cut-up face and broken nose, effectively threatening her career. Unable to handle the mental anguish, she went home, found herself alone, and ended her life with a bullet through her head.
My poem eulogizes a woman who many would not want to eulogize. But history is full of literature that recognizes women from all walks of life, focusing on what we see on the surface and what we suppose is underneath. Thus I found it fitting to write four simple lines recognizing the tragic death of the woman who most knew as Savannah but who was really always Shannon Wilsey.
