Alaya Rocco

porches, the inn, and its porches
we must've seen a million birds.

If I woke up just early enough
felt slippers matching robe
he'd sit waiting in a sunrise-flaming halo.

I knew the birds by name, he'd ask me
for names, mine, yours
northern cardinal, american goldfinch.

I’d always know I studied that book
like it was my bible
knelt down for prayer every night.

dear god,
make sure the birds I see tomorrow
make sure they're the ones I know
please

maybe he was impressed I didn't know
silent smiles.

Sometimes he'd give me a new one,
new bird add to my collection,
bible study for Sundays.

But as time moved on I grew
out of the inn, my yellow room
and our birds.

Now when I come visit
things change, I have a new bible
the newspaper,
collected from the corner store,
early.

Mother tongue stories to tell.
There’s a pride parade article this morning.
placed aside unimportant,
those people don't need to
push, themselves at us

If I came out to my grandfather it would go like this
Lets go back to the birds–
you're not made for that life
some
people are,
not you, you're made for fame
– you’re the skinny one, thin and long
red-bellied woodpecker,
chipping away

if I came out to my grandfather I think

He would have to sit down on a bench
take a breath
before getting up and
disappearing
into his flaming halo sunset.

Dear God,
I’m going to pretend, for a little while.
You understand, right?