A poem for Pluto cannot be written

A poem for Pluto cannot be written,

for who would read such a thing.

The planets have spoken,

and Pluto does not exist anymore.

It’s status and respect exist no more,

removed forever from the celestial world.

What would be the point of creating

words for someone who cannot

read or appreciate the creation?

No, a poem for Pluto cannot be written.



For Pluto: The Kindest Surface of the Planet

So cold,
it bites at your senses,
raping with precision,
your touch,
your smell,
your taste.
It hurts even to hear
and your eyes can’t bear
to open,
to look,
to see,
the frozen wasteland
that lies ahead.
It is,
your deathbed;
no life,
not even yours will
be found here.
This is
your end.
Rage will
get you absolutely
nothing and tears
will freeze
on contact.
Hope is