Review: This Elegance by Derrick Austin
Reviewed by Alexis Soto
BOA Editions. 2026. 85 pages.
In a world where the normalcy of life is, at best, shaky and unpredictable, creatives have a natural way of grounding themselves within their art. Transcending time and space, language and societal barriers, making is a vital core of humanity. There will always be freedom in creative pleasure, and when the simple act of living becomes an act of resistance, that space to breathe, to be is more important than ever. Derrick Austin is an exemplary voice in our current time and place who employs this kind of transcendence with his collection This Elegance.
Playing on the concept of sacra conversazione, Austin delivers a rendition of black, queer pride that levels with the current world, one that so often overlooks and spites those who are deemed different. It’s not just an ode to the creative kin before this time, it is an act of celebration of intimacy in its purest form, written with fierce devotion to the vulnerability of exposing one’s self and that finds the beauty in what some might call the mundane.
The collection begins with a memory consisting of a catalog of glamorous pop culture icons from the late 20th and early 21st century, the era Austin was born into, highlighting the poet’s contemporary influences and inspirations:
Jackie O and Charles & Di and Axl Rose and Cher
… a whole revolution, to begin loving yourself. Jesus
This is a bold introduction to Austin’s consciousness, and guides the reader on how the collection should be read – a thanks to artistic kin and an examination of the self through an environment constantly changing in time and space.
This introspection of the self is journeyed through “Self Portraits,” an anthology of intersectional representation of Austin’s identities. The speaker jumps from mirror to mirror, pulling the innate parts of himself to be as true as possible in conflation with societal expectations and lays into the erotic pleasure of being;
That these veined, prickly leaves
Similarly introspective are several poems titled “Diary” within the collection that provide relation to intimate familiarity and loneliness. In the first, Austin recalls a relationship that fostered a sense of domesticity. It’s this domesticity that Austin then longs for, amplifying the current state of solitude: “No one has dated me as long as J, openly, patiently. / His stillness reminds me of looking down at the sea / from a cliff.”
In the second “Diary”, the reader journeys with Austin as the recollection of early COVID days are announced and brought into focus. The distance within the relationship is made palpable in the poem, and the two “Diary” entries are sandwiched between two other poems of the same nature: “June 2020” and “June 2021.” Again, the distance between figures is highlighted in the mention of phone calls instead of face-to-face interaction, the widening of relationships exacerbated by circumstance:
When did my brother become God-fearing?
“Miracle Play” and “Hours” continue to read into the intimacy of past relationships and their continued hold on the speaker – not because Austin wants to provoke a sense of sensory integration within the reader but so the feelings of belonging are firmly cemented, even while continuing the feeling of seclusion:
We wore each other’s clothes outside.
Austin plays with past and present tense, juxtaposing freedom and restraint, the presence of erotic pleasure against a bucolic environment. The entries read like a train of thought, a conversation held over hot tea, bringing forth a perspective that realizes eroticism is not always meant to be discussed behind closed doors, or held in shameful status. Austin promotes that it is a part of human nature and is vital in discovering every facet of identity.
Significant name drops are sprinkled between the poems as a calling card to the inspiration Austin has taken from these pasts. By naming the artists he draws from, Austin strides into the concept of sacra conversazione. Defined as holy conversation between saints in a relatively informal setting, Austin plays with this by reminding the reader that through his pleasure and his loneliness, he still holds the prospect of creation. Poems such as “Andre Leon Talley” and “Homage to Lyle Ashton Harris” invoke the spirits familiar to the speaker, gathering from the peers of his past, present and future. There is a degree of similarity in living, existing, surviving in their environment as a true form of themselves. It speaks to the layer of intersectional identity prominent in the collection.
In “Homage to Kathleen Collins,” Austin first acknowledges his peers from across the rift of space and time, highlighting the impact of a movie produced by a black woman in representation of African-American art. The movie itself comments on the meaning of art, the creation of such art and the relationship artists have with one another. By commenting on the act of creation, Austin is directly communicating with Kathleen Collins:
In the waiting room, I read an article about an art restoration
The collection ends in familiarity with “The Age of Pleasure” and while loneliness is the burden of the speaker, it also fosters connection through the act of creation between artist to art, artist to artist, and artist to person. Austin doesn’t dwell on the unfavorable nature of the day, instead he remains dedicated to the warm memory of companionship, the idea that existing doesn’t mean productivity, but staying present: “Close your eyes and see the tulip under the hair on his forearm. / Or it’s summer again. Or you’re not fearful. Or you can sleep.”
Lexi Soto is an undergraduate at University of North Texas. She is currently majoring in Creative Writing and minoring in Game Design and Narrative. Read more of her work at The Litany.