descendant of
those kids
who signed up
to take a
one-way trip
to Mars

inside the
10 x 12 metal shelter
that separates me
from the atmosphere
that would boil  
a man’s blood

in the 6 month darkness
of a Martian winter
i think about what you
said about
the smell of flowers
newly mown
grass
and the moths
that fly up
the window at night

and beat

against the glass                      

sometimes
you think about us
up there and
wonder
if we are happy
in our world
because you
are not
in your’s

tired
of waiting to hear
about the birth of
another royal baby
another global flood
and how that
last strawberry
was sold for $150,000
to a man with
yellowing toenails

i know it’s
only a few weeks now
before an edge
of sunlight
breaks across
the far hills
and that soon
the aluminum-walled
gardens
will yield again
their greens

my lover
died a year ago
of the Disease
and her mummy
is just a Martian stone’s
throw away

sure i still
gaze through the telescope
at your world
and watch
the last flickering lights
of your cities
but there is
more to do
here

yesterday
a new breed was born
all mole-like
and pink

she was more comfortable
outside thrashing about in the
red soil
so we left her there
and when we returned
she waved her lobster claw
in a playful gesture
back at
the Earth