Edit 1
Divorce by fire,
screw the courts.
She passes a Bic beneath
her sentencing slip
embossed with a magistrate's seal.
Parole granted by sear.
Flame licks yellowed parchment
sickly as an alky's skin.
Ebony snow falls
onto a coral coverlet
speckled by crusty carmine
from a nose now listing to the left.
An investment of a dollar
for a pink plastic key
to the prison;
all locks tumbled
with roll of a broken thumb.
Half a bottle of Sominex
snuck into the rum
(put him under
but not six feet)
fell short but not as short
as time (her flight leaves at four).
The retirement of C.O. Unstable
must proceed as planned.
She caresses a seam
of his boxers
with the last corner
of flaming past.
Singed pads go unnoticed
as flickering amber devours cotton
and the scent of burning corruption
tickles bloodcaked nares.
Hypnotized by fiery dance,
barking snaps her from her trance
as the troupe takes over the bed.
Suitcase in hand, new persona in pocket,
she steps onto the stoop,
lungs fully inflated with freedom.
The comatose muscles of her cheeks
creak in a comeback smile
as she spins to see
first wisps of flesh fueled smoke
snake through a cracked sash.
He always was an avid fan
of a good barbecue,
surely he's enjoying
his just desserts.
Original for comparison
Divorce by fire,
screw the courts.
She passes a Bic beneath
her sentencing slip
embossed with a magistrate's seal.
Time to be paroled.
Flame licks yellowed parchment
sickly as an alky's skin,
time, rather than failing liver,
the uncaring culprit.
So many years wasted,
memories screaming
to be purged by sear.
Brown turns to red ringlets,
ebony snow falls
onto a coral coverlet
speckled with crusty carmine
from her seemingly drunk nose
now leaning to the left.
An investment of a dollar
for a pink plastic key
to the prison;
sentence commuted
with roll of a broken thumb.
Half a bottle of Sominex
snuck into the rum
(put him under
but not six feet)
fell short but not as short
as time (her flight leaves at four).
The retirement of C.O. Unstable
must proceed as planned.
She caresses a seam
of his boxers
with the last corner
of flaming past.
Sepia, then crimson rings,
followed by flickering amber.
Mesmerized by fiery dance,
the barking of the lousy mutt next door
(for once welcome)
snaps her from her trance
as the troupe takes over the bed.
Suitcase in hand, new persona in pocket,
she steps outside to inhale freedom
perfumed with freshly cut grass
far more enticing than costly cologne.
The muscles of her cheeks
screech with the effort
of the first smile in a decade
as she spins to see
the first wisps of flesh fueled smoke
escape through a cracked sash.
He always was an avid fan
of a good barbecue,
surely he'll enjoy
his just desserts.
A cheap lighter
in the hand of a non smoker
works wonders
to ignite the trash.
Divorce by fire,
screw the courts.
Note from pedant hell: Just desserts is actually spelled just deserts but is pronounced desserts. I used improper spelling for the sake of pronunciation and to avoid confusion regarding my intention. Thanks so much for reading.![]()



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I laughed my butt off at your reference to a Christmas tree because mine is always overdone. I'm surprised I haven't burned the house down yet.

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