I’m white space
between black dots.
I grew up catching tigers
by the toe. School books
came with unbroken backs.
No one ever called my people X.
Families on TV looked like mine.
I burn in the sun. I believed
money could get me where I wanted to go.

I own the land I live on.
I was never a melting anything –
fondue, chocolate, molten pot,
hot lava lamp or zombie brain.

A bubble surrounds me,
shimmer-soap surprise
I thought would never pop
until it did.

# # #

Tricia Knoll is eight-years retired from communications work for the City of Portland, Oregon. I’ve been madly writing poetry since then — a way to use my degrees in literature from Stanford University (BA) and Yale University (MAT). I’m working on a manuscript based on my white privilege and experiences with racism called How I Learned to Be White. Connecting Dots is part of that manuscript.  Read more here: http://triciaknoll.com

Photo credit: Terri Malone