Smithereens Press Chapbooks Left Behind by Colm Scully | Page 21

Life on Mars

Your pea green body rubs against me.
You are still asleep as I watch sunrise
over Alba Mons.
I heard yesterday that you would leave me
for a human girl half your years.
The dome of the sun clips the horizon,
burning its red rim.
I hear you mumble in your sleep.
I remember I asked
‘What do you wish for?’
But your elliptic visions led you astray.
One of their short summers was all it took.
Now I feel guilty,
helping you learn their barbish words.
Or was it the loss of tenderness in my touch.
Was I the first to stop locking noses
before you’d leave for evening shift on the ice caps.
I look for a way
to recapture that alien heart,
to re-fire our dying love.
A silver bead of sweat runs down your face.
I want to wipe it dry,
to trace my palm across the creases of your neck,
fold my fingers through the vortex of your gland.
15