I am not the rib-bone
of apple-chomping Adam.

The smell of apple blossom
promises pies, pips, and skins.

I do not fear snakes.
I wear no sack cloth

bindings, white robes,
cross on a bronze chain.

I clap with two hands
and know one tree hears

when another falls.
My toes root,

tickle up mushrooms,
and curl into leaf fall.

I breathe wind
that rings the gong

that stirs the air
that breathes me.

I don’t confuse windsong
with choirs of angels.

Tricia Knoll’s poetry appears widely in journals and anthologies, nominated 7 times for a Pushcart. Her recent collection, How I Learned To Be White, came out from Antrim House in March 2018.