Michelle Brittan Rosado
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.
Window Scenes for Out-of-Town Visitors
Vacaville, California
The stretch of road that curves left then up then
right and the glowing
street lamps arranging in the rearview
like a smiley face—the barn
where we said the zodiac
killer lived—the turn
signals like metronomes—
the still cows we never touched
with fingers past the window’s beveled
edge, combing the wind—the smoke
stacks of the Budweiser plant—the invisible
radio waves from the college station breaking
over the hills—the blur of neon fonts
firebranding the night
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