Illegal Poem by Leo Briones

I cleaned until the windows sparkled,
now everyone can see
how blue the ocean is at Crystal Cove.
I made sure the jardinero cut
the St. Augustine between the steps.

I remember when Justinsito
tripped on that grass and scraped his knee.
He cried an hour until the stinging
stopped, then another hour when
we couldn’t find you after your tennis lesson.

I cut the potatoes and tossed
them in the tomato broth
to make your favorite caldo de queso⎯

I still can’t believe you wrote that check;
SOS (Save our State) Stop those illegals
from infecting OUR society.
$2,500. More than I make in two months.

I nick my finger on the six-inch Henkels,
so sharp it could cut granite. I bleed
all over the Mondrian cutting board⎯

think I could use that knife to slice your throat.
But I could never do such a thing, dios perdoname.
After all, if I ever had to leave who would tidy up
around here or tuck Justinsito in at night?