nursed to drunkenness,
the sunbeams are rallying, unwanted
for a battered heart
that wants to be healthy,
for the skin of a friend,
for the floating garden lilies.
They (the sunbeams),
with luggage in their arms,
insist they will move along
unless they are taken seriously.
You can’t ignore us forever, they warn.
We have been here from the start, they guilt.
You, sunbeams,
reek of integrity.
Leave, but don’t go far.
PLUTO BLOOMING 