To Kill A Mockingbird

“Mockingbirds don’t do one thing,” he said,
“They don’t eat up the garden head.”

Cusitta was blind in one eye,
he was feeble,
much older than the parents of our school,
he was father to I,
he was older than these people.

Blind and crazy,
Nearly fifty,
his tribal curse was on his left,
his head wanted to see what the Finches left.

I heard Cusitta say something about sin;
Something rather than birds mocking.

There was talk about birds,
blue jays and sin.
You can shoot all the bluejays you want
But for mockingbirds you don’t.

The fight was on,
with a third cousin and anyone,
to commit to cowardice
or play keep-away in an office.

Word got around
how the fights as family on private ground
wasn’t for Cusitta to teach,
but for Uncle Jack, of which
were done in the backyard;
hunting to shoot tin cans,
but never hunting to kill a mockingbird.

“Mockingbirds don’t do one thing,” he said,
They don’t eat up the garden head.

Leonell