Domenica Newell-Amato | No More Nylons 

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Domenica Newell-Amato 

No More Nylons 

Poetry 

The arts offer much to grappling with illness – and grace. I have found that the creative process brings the mind to a representative field where the self-in-relation (to God, to one’s purpose, to one’s illness, to other, to self) can be reconfigured—with effort. Patiently, because the work requires focus and action in the world and takes the time it wants. Seeing oneself in the artistic process of meditative action, one can visualize the self in its journey towards acceptance and peaceful union with faith, for example, while hoping to inch closer to it in reality. From all that I have learned from French literary theory, none of the process can fully—or really—be linear.

“No More Nylons” 

My father says that I am a fine line 

__________________ 

that I can't be somewhere without water 

without a bathroom 

without a hospital 

and should wear a sign that says FRAGILE 

If I 

filter 

and 

fragment myself 

enough 

maybe I 

can 

become a painting-- 

or a 

Renaissance puzzle 

piece? 

Put one [sign] on your leg and one on your back 

so people can read and say “this girl is fragile”— 

like a box when FRAGILE lets people know to not mishandle or break it 

when it is traveling… 

We cannot fight the elements, we gotta keep low, 

You should not travel, he says, 

They wouldn't know how to treat you 

in the hospital 

They'll put you in the corridoio— 

Do you know what that is?” 

A hallway 

/ / 

Yes 

I told him I don’t want to go to battle. 

He told me, you’re already in a battle. 

O Bhagavad Gita. 

He said that if he had a friend up there, 

he'd ask them, “Can you check on Domenica?” 

All 

really 

want 

to 

wear 

is 

a dress 

made 

from 

sugar packets 

and 

a sign 

that reads: 

AWARENESS. 

If I’m a line, let me be round to take a detour. 

They say it gets worse as it goes down the line. 

I have stomach polyps—he doesn’t. 

Rare within a rare disease. 

Terrifying to read questions about how many organs they can remove. O Gratitude, make my legs strong to carry my heart.

Beyond My Battle