Late last year I read the biography Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Milford. The poems that follow reflect my emotions and thoughts on the book I was reading from the perspective of both the poet and the biographer telling her story.
books filled with
pages inked with
lines of words
telling a story
few will ever see
or comprehend
your life burns
through these
turning pages
living more life
than you ever did
for your years
confuse me
make me yearn
to know your
mind
the letters
your wrote
leave me with
unpleasant thoughts
I’d rather not have
the pieces
are missing
my dear
I do not like
your world
through
your words
though
you wrote them
very well
I will not
undermine
your talent
for you shine
bright in a
dim universe
but my gosh
your ego
I cannot stand
thinking everyone
who you encounter
will fall to your feet
and the ones who
do not
you’ll write until
they fall under
the spell
that you cast
leaving no choice
but to fall
into your game
who are you, my dear?
for the troubled
woman
throughout these
pages
is a puzzle
I cannot solve
ESVM
page 313
12.16.2015
oh Edna, sweet Edna
your work was
beautiful
your talent known
young
your poems were
significant
but I could not
understand you
I can sympathize
at most
trying to comprehend
someone who is
selfish
is never an
easy task
your sister knew it
and deeply
resented you
your husband treated
you like a child
and did many
things that made
me not want to
understand
your choices
at times
your self confidence
haunted you
later in life
becoming your downfall
in the end
oh how I wish
to know your
thoughts
in hopes of seeing
what was invisible
to my hazel eyes
your soul is
long gone
no more pain
to suffer
but your poems
my dear
may they live
on forever
your legacy isn’t
the life you led
which is probably
for the better
ESVM
page 509
12.28.2015
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