This week our poetry team is featuring a new poem by Quebec-based writer Shannon Lise, called 'How Shall I Defy You Who Wound Me in the Night?'. A poem after 'Postlude' by William Carlos Williams, our team loved Shannon's work for its rich layers and the question-based form.
Shannon Lise grew up in Turkey, attended university in Texas, and is currently located in Québec, where she’s wrapping up a doctorate in clinical psychology. She is the author of Such Excess of Light (Kelsay Books, 2021) and recent work has appeared in The Bombay Literary Magazine, Ballast, and State of Matter.
Recently one of our poetry editors Grant Burkhardt asked a few questions of Shannon about her new poem and about her work and inspirations more broadly. This is a transcript of their conversation:
Grant Burkhardt: Your poem is so richly layered, with so many stunning questions, I'm wondering what about the essence of the original William Carlos WIlliams poem inspired yours?
Shannon Lise: The title of the poem is taken from a line in William Carlos Williams’ “Postlude”, which explores themes of longing and loss and is representative of the romanticism of his earlier work. It is a striking poem, though more for form than content, some might argue – and this line in particular has stuck with me ever since I first read it years ago in Tempers. (I also love the image in the second stanza of the lovers who use their words – that is, their intentional self-expression and meaningful connection with and understanding of each other – as an active defence against seemingly overwhelming external challenges, as a protective shield against misunderstanding, hostility, and isolation. “…our words arrows / To shoot the stars / Who from that misty sea / Swarm to destroy us.”)
Funnily enough, I didn’t actually have Williams’ poem in mind when I wrote mine, although in retrospect I realize that, as dissimilar as our two poems are, they share a certain sense of urgency and both explore themes of inner conflict and emotional turmoil. It was in fact as I finished writing my poem that that line from “Postlude” came to me all of a sudden, and I immediately knew it was the perfect title. So much so, that I felt almost as if it had been unconsciously guiding the poem from the beginning. Because ultimately, this is a poem about defiance. A celebration of defiance, even. And while I’m using Williams’ line quite differently from how he used it, I like to think – from what I know of him and his work – that he would “get it”, so to speak. The question is, I think, a universal one – how shall I defy you, who wound me in the night? How shall we resist the despair that creeps from the dark places of this broken and too often horrific world into our psyches?
Grant Burkhardt: If I could ask a slightly meta question...is there a specific "You" who the speaker is talking to in the poem?
Shannon Lise: While the poem could probably be read in a few different ways, I imagine the speaker as engaging in an inner monologue. This is a poem of the divided self. While technically there is only one speaker in the poem, it can be read as possessing three voices. There is the “crippled voice” that asks, “why not take that soft step to the dark?” juxtaposed against another voice, the self holding on, pleading “why won’t you let me stay?” The speaker can be seen as a third voice, the part of the self that mediates between these two primal impulses, and that ultimately seems to pick a side, so to speak, and merge with the pulsion de vie.
Grant Burkhardt: "Fairy castle cactus" is such a beautiful detail. Would you mind sharing why you chose it?
Shannon Lise: So, I suppose this is a bit of an autobiographical addition to the poem. The fairy castle cactus is in fact a real plant – acanthocereus tetragonus. It has this whimsical turreted shape that really does look like a castle, and it’s just magnificent. I used to have one; in fact, it was one of my very first houseplants as an inexperienced plant parent during the COVID pandemic.
The thing is, it needs a lot of bright light to thrive, so ideally should be placed in a south-facing window with direct sunlight, which I did not have. This became a meaningful image to me, in a poem about holding onto life. You have this kind of magical cactus that is symbolic of the everyday magic of being alive, but also of our dreams, our aspirations, and perhaps also our longing to stay in love with being alive. But then you don’t have what it needs to thrive – the bright sunlight. All you’ve got is the north-facing window. And you’re not sure if it’s enough.
I am sorry to have to report that my own fairy castle cactus didn’t make it. Probably the lack of light (although I also may have overwatered it). In retrospect, I realize I could have just bought a grow light. But then again, I was quite an inexperienced plant lover, after all.
Grant Burkhardt: Do you find yourself often writing "after" poems? I find it can be a useful unlock of the creative chest, so to speak, and I wonder if it's the same for you?
Shannon Lise: Absolutely! While this particular poem didn’t start out as an “after poem”, I often use this strategy to find inspiration. I’m particularly fond of ekphrastic poems, where I’ll use a work of visual art to get me started. I’ll pull up a painting and set a timer for ten minutes and write as hard as I can in a stream-of-consciousness kind of way. It gives you something to start with. Sometimes you get nothing, but more often than not it eventually turns into a poem.
I have less experience writing poems inspired by other poems, but it’s something I’d like to try more often. This summer I attended a (fabulous!) women’s poetry workshop (with Bryana Joy Studio) and we used that technique a lot, with great results. Right now, I’m playing around with poems from Aracelis Girmay’s Kingdom Animalia, drawing inspiration from her incisive use of language and syntax.
Grant Burkhardt: Are there poets you go back to often when looking for inspiration for your own work?
Shannon Lise: Sure. While I am always eager to discover new poetry, there are some classics that I consistently return to – I’m thinking especially of Mary Oliver, W.S. Merwin, T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, G.K. Chesterton, and Edna St. Vincent Millay.
Shannon Lise
Shannon Lise grew up in Turkey, attended university in Texas, and is currently located in Québec, where she’s wrapping up a doctorate in clinical psychology. She is the author of Such Excess of Light (Kelsay Books, 2021) and recent work has appeared in The Bombay Literary Magazine, Ballast, and State of Matter.
Grant Burkhardt
Grant is a poet and writer with work featured in or forthcoming in the Martello Journal, the Great Lakes Review, Nightingale & Sparrow, Icarus, and others. His poem - 'The Thing About People Knowing You Cook' - was a Sundress Publications 'Best of the Net' nominee. He’s also one of the Umbrella's poetry editors and non-fiction editors.
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