The Night We Decide on Divorce

Our son sleeps beneath his quilt
with the bright triangle fish,
his stuffed dog tossed and trapped
between the mattress and wall.
Water warms to the temperature of air
in its plastic cup by the bed
and clothes still smelling of juice and sun
lay heaped on their corner of floor.
His shelves of toys
form their usual shapes in the dark
while he breathes in a rhythm
*mealtime, playtime, bath*
like the day he rests from
and the day he expects
come morning.