January 2024
Bio Note: On March 1, Finishing Line Press releases my new chapbook, The Unknown Daughter, which is part autobiographical, part fantasy fiction, and part feminist history. None of the poems in this chapbook have been published before. They are a series in which each poem is spoken by a different voice that knew the Unknown Daughter in some way. The chapbook is on pre-sale discount through January 5th. The two poems here are the first in the series and the second to the last. More info.
Tomb of the Unknown Daughter
Many wonder about her body, possibly embalmed or clumped ash inside white marble. Most hesitate to ask. Sometimes the eternal flame falters. The Watchwoman may wait a bit before she tends it. Reverence is not ritualized or punctual – and so many visitors, even those in high heels or cowgirl boots, know that multitudes still quietly perform false tricks for acceptance withheld. A pamphlet mentions the miscarried, the stillborn. Abortions and those given up for adoption. Those taken and never seen again. The penultimate line asks if your mother remains undiscovered. The last line is a phone number for 24-hour help. Adjacent, on the plaza, find movable chess queens and babies on wheels sculpted of pietra gray marble, interactive sundials for hands-on shadow casting and some joy in slow motion. The gnomons. Some tour buses don’t stop. Vehicles that linger provide a brief respite for stretching and relief from the tour guide’s drone that includes this caution for the Tomb – Silence is never necessary. Respect speaks.
Forthcoming in The Unknown Daughter March, 2024
Snow Angel
Silence after a record snowfall. The tomb, the chess queens, and the babies wear rounded ten-inch cloches of white. No Watchwomen this paid snow-day. Buses fitted with chains take an alternate route. Forecasters imply a melt and blame climate change. A squirrel hops about in dashes of transit. A woman who lives uphill, an illustrator of children’s books who has no children of her own, tugs on her tallest boots, a red wool hat, and bright blue mittens. Fluffy in her gray down coat, she trudges to the courtyard of the gnomons, rests on her back, and scissors her arms and legs.
Forthcoming in The Unknown Daughter March, 2024
©2024 Tricia Knoll
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL