we write poems about the Sun
because long after we
are gone long after
We have changed
She will be still be here

perhaps the poems will persist
harder than any stone or
ring any steel germ
or marriage guns

perhaps the pink voices
of early morning dawn
will resonate
faster than momentum
because our measured
lyrics are lost bathing

we write warm
golden octaves hoping
the Diogenes light
will find an honest Son