Tricia Knoll

THE STRAIN OF THE POOR-VOICED POET

I hear so many songs, vibrations of wind
on flag leaf, waves of sweet grass
the ocean's omnipotent always

so my strangled sounds, dropped consonants
—when kitchen is heard as bitchin'—
I'm sure I'm saying, the polite and pointed

what did you say? can you repeat it?
with a lilt of maybe my brain doesn't work
these catches in my throat, the irony

all I have to say about privilege and loss
or the worrisomes of war
when my throat sprays firings

of vowels flat in nerve endings
and I push out fractures of gratitude
for small acts of hearing kindness,

and empathy for those who never ask
me to read in the poetry workshop
out of empathy for my break ups

this slow growth of crags,
catches, forced sibilants,
my dog thinks I'm nervous

how hard it is to sing a simple hymn,
the amazing grace
I'm happy to hum.

Tricia Knoll is a Portland, Oregon poet, retired from communication work which included some radio work. She now has a craggy, unreliable voice from spasmodic dysphonia. She starts poetry readings with one sentence about her voice disability — and pushes the poems out as best she can. Recent publications include Literary Mama, Windfall, Flycatcher, Verseweaver , haiku publications, and inclusion in two poetry anthologies. She contributes to New Verse News frequently.