Amber Decker's Inevitable Wreckage shows up to a knife fight with a flamethrower. The speaker in one poem says, "I am afraid to write this poem. I / am afraid to not write this poem." This is a book of necessary truths, "that a lover could kill the good in you / with a knife made of silence," that a violent thunderstorm "leaves behind a sky as blue / and seamless as an unbroken robin's egg" that, "to ask out loud / for love / does not mean you / are broken." Decker is our Sylvia Plath, our Anne Sexton. We should all be reading every single word she writes. Shaindel Beers, author of A Brief History of Time and The Children's War and Other Poems
Muriel Rukeyser asks & answers, "What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open." That is exactly what Amber Decker's Inevitable Wreckage is, the aftermath of that split, it leaves you sifting through the dark thick of not just the speaker's beautifully crafted truths but your own. Decker writes of womanhood through the dirty lens of raw sexuality, laying bare the holy riveting wild of it, both the bliss & hell of it & everything in-between— & she's damn good at it. Every poem "rose from the ash of the obscene, a delicious tongue of fire curling up the wick of my spine" — she asks & answers, "DO YOU FEEL SAFE? I feel everything." — & so will you.