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Destiny Allison

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Member Since: Mar, 2012

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Minimalism
by Destiny Allison
Monday, March 26, 2012
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Destiny Allison
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A poem about the harder parts of intimacy.

It snowed last night.  The cold creeping, insipid in the dark, through the quilts and the tangled bones of memory reawakened.  We gnawed on the marrow of old wounds.  Shivering.    

We don’t have quilts.

Or memories that we share. 

Or enough silverware anymore.

In the cold and toxic dark, our words ripped through each other like angry animals desperate for sustenance.  

I love you.  Art matters. 

Where the fuck did all the forks go?

I am thinking about minimalism. Stripped bare.  Bones, invisible in the dark. 

Letting go.  Holding on.

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Reviewed by Amor Sabor 3/29/2012
This reminds me of being alone when together...as you grasp for the meaning of that which holds you down so much that only the bare bones are left showing those bonds...slender threads that cause one to wonder why they have not broken by now. Well done.
Amor
Reviewed by Destiny Allison 3/27/2012
Hi Ron,

Poverty and lifestyle were not literally part of the poem. However, they might be taken metaphorically -- poverty of the spirit and a lifestyle where nothing matters enough (or some things matter too much).

This poem was an attempt to reduce one of the more difficult moments in intimate relationships down to the essence. Why are the forks missing? Why are we fighting? Why is it that we both remember the same thing differently? And, ultimately, what is it that matters in this moment? Can we hold on to our relationship and still manage to let things go?
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 3/27/2012
Are you writing about minimalism as a lifestyle or minimalism as a result of poverty?

Ron



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