Divorce Court Poem by Leo Briones

Pronounced like an alarm clock,
'I'm leaving her today.'

No sense for lips to quiver
or thoughts to quibble
about what he has known—
from the nausea of a young drunk
to the stank breath of an old happy lush—
known and tortured him like a sundial telling time
across the granite tablet of his life.

And now that she is fat and bitter as juju beans
and sleeps in the other room
with her flat screen TV and sex toys—
he enjoys scribbling thoughts on the moment;

and thinks of those lips, softer than air
and thighs as smooth and sweet
as rose pedal Panna Cotta.
How they taste like freedom.

Crawled up in his 15-year old Camry
with his old sweat stained pillow and tattered blanket,
the San Francisco fog creeping in like a clever ghost—
he's really, really cold.

He could slept inside at least for one more night
but he couldn't stand the echo of that chill and tearful confession,

'I understand Dad. I just hope it's not this bad for me.'