Pluto...

Pluto,

I’ve sat and dug a hole for us
yet you won’t lie down.
I sit and wait, beneath the weeping willow
yet you won’t grieve.
I’ve wandered along the narrow path
that leads from the road, and wondered how old
you are. You’ve run rings around me
more times than the sycamore and Monkey Puzzle trees
I’ve counted, as the crows took off from the headstones
by the hedges.

Pluto,

I’m wondering if you won’t lie down
because we’re not done, or because you have
other plans. I heard they bury people standing up
these days? And if so, are we frozen in time already?
But I can speak?
So why are we sitting here in silence, when you hear my thoughts
yet don’t reply?

Pluto,

my hands are dirty from filling in our hole.
I’m cold, and hungry. Don’t the dead need no food?
You’re sitting with your back to me yet I can see you
looking at me. Why, Pluto? Why don’t you turn around?

Pluto,

I’ve closed my eyes. I see now what you see.
It’s quiet. And I see us. We never died? Is that right?
Tell me. Ah I see now. The show you’re watching across
the road.

We’re sitting in a diner and the story isn’t over.