AMAZING GRACE – PERFORMED MORE THAN TEN MILLION TIMES A YEAR by Tricia Knoll I was born sorting yellowing linens in that steamer trunk of heritage. Have I finished airing fabrics in open-window blow of compassion? Does fingering privilege mean I commit supremacy? Razor-blade words and blood on our hands. How deep are cuts in remnants? I eavesdrop on my milquetoast words – eavesdrop, where the rain falls from the roof splash-dash. I draw columns, humming. Privilege well-soaped saddle smells of fine leather my telescope sees the brightest stars Supremacy a skeletal horse races a shooting star assume a rising star has your name on it white men walk away from Waco a black man serves three years at Rikers for stealing a backpack a child’s inheritance in a safety deposit box a stone mausoleum with steep caretaker fees the weight of the lost umbilical cord the navel you live with until you die unopened birthday presents of complacency a fat beast of burden snug in its traces arrogance bound in centuries of tree rings the bull god’s gold sarcophagus Gyroscope Review - page 18 !