Michelle Brittan Rosado
Childhood Bedroom Window, 1980s
in Daly City I look each night
for the symmetrical arrangement
of red lights in the distance
that someone had told me
was the Sutro Tower
in San Francisco, the first
of several cities I would pine for
from the outside. Some nights,
the pinpoints disappear behind a layer
of fog from the bay, and others
they show so brightly
like the forgotten pegs in my Lite Brite
glowing at the end of the room,
it is almost like I could lift the black
construction paper
at the corner of the sky
Author’s note: The poems in this series all use the image of a window as their starting point, some in the title itself and others more peripherally. I’ve been thinking of this symbol a lot lately — as a portal for wonder in childhood, an aperture to others’ lives during the pandemic, a view of the world outside after giving birth and spending those early days indoors. These poems may not have come into existence without the invitation to contribute to The Fresno 15, and I am endlessly grateful to the MFA program for my years there and the deep sense of community I’ve carried with me since graduating in 2011. Thank you for reading and for supporting the Larry Levis Memorial Scholarship.
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