a poem for Pluto

Though you are
the smallest of the nine,
we all live in your orbit...
as you distantly circle our sun
hand in hand with fair Persephone

"frenzied God,"
spare we poor Bohemians
forgive our fickle inconstance
for ours
is the true land
of Shiva...
and thus
we are creatures of chaos
swayed as easily
by Mars as by Saturn

Sooner or later
we all
join your moons...
but spare us please
these fleeting artistic hours