It is not to say that the plums
Have turned  cold and sweet

Or our son is executing white
Sighs in smoke in parking lot.

A daily sun has eaten plums
For our tomorrow breakfast.

it is who had ripened them
And caused them to wrinkle.

And it was not smoking son
We blamed for the wrinkles .

There shall be no breakfast.
There will be no tomorrow.

Just say all’s well that ends.
There will be no wrinkles.

(After William Carlos Williams poem This is Just To Say )