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Attack Of Mars
1:09 am, September 2
The fiery red Mars
smiles sinously and drips
down onto the melancholy moon.
definitely more welcome than the corn blue
listen to how the wolf's howl greets it so
the astronomers finally tear their eyes away from their telescopes
to gasp and cry miracle
they will eat sandwiches with their fellow physicists
and busy themselves by concocting theories for the 10 o clock (heart)breaking news
but what they will never mention --
is that the aliens were not the attack
but the planet's locked fury was
after all the endless scrutiny, speculation
spotlights will decide to gravitate, after all
just then, from the moon now soaked red
a man jumps off and lands on my roof, next to me
he tells me he'll stay in his silver satellite no longer
that he's never favoured... radical change
I told him that my planet was clearly the wrong choice
because it was morphing and dying with every minute
he shed a tear
and said if the red bleeds
onto my dying planet I might have to move too
I adjusted the hat on his head and said the event would be more welcome
than strange men on my roof, so
I rejected his offer of a coat thick enough for Pluto,
(come on, I'll even throw in two tickets to get there)
and as he proceeded to leave I gave him a picture of him I took
while skygazing as a child
I had given him a name back then, written behind
and as he turned it over, indeed, he says, that name is his.
he then gazed, amazed at the closest thing to his never-seen-before reflection.
I wiped his tears and whispered in his ears that if this place were indeed to be awashed
with lava blood
I would bathe in it.
I would rejoice in the night, where the moon will cry with the red glory of Mars, this
night,
so macabre it could not help but be a celebration.
---
Note: I wanted this poem to be aligned to the left, because that was how I
wrote it. Usually I don't bother much with alignments but I felt that this poem would be
better read that way.
This poem is a fun piece, something that I'd never thought I'd write. I'm not sure where
the inspiration came from. For the record, at the time I wrote this I was listening to
Rufus Wainwright, but I don't think that's of any importance.