Mars by LaRissa Rennaker

A blue and green cloud hangs on the red sky

Seeing the Earth from here reminds me of distance

I pulled the plug that connected us to one another

The rocks here move and dance in circles

Wind whistles through the small wrinkles time has caused

The air is plotting my death and chokes me

My skin bubbles when I take off my suit

I brought Clavera and she seems to enjoy herself

Tarantulas are used to this weather

Her long legs bury into the red sand, but I know she misses the snow

I never liked it, but now that I live in this sandy wasteland

I miss the white specks drifting around and catching onto my hair

I never see it go away

Snow, winters, icy freshness

Storms linger, so that the humans never feel the sun beating down on them like I do

I wonder if my mom still sprinkles the salt onto the thin ice

It burns holes like the atmosphere here does to my flesh

My hair hates it here

Its brittle like a spaghetti and cracks when I touch the comb to it

I don’t know if I’ll go home

The radio buzzes with static

Occasionally I hear them speaking, but I can only make out a few words at a time

Food.  Sufficient.  Alive.  Respond. Over.

Normal vitals means I’m still physically alive

 

Our bodies are made for one planet

We don’t belong here

We invited ourselves

I’m tired of dripping sweat

Montoya. Hope. Alive. Answer. We. Over.

I take a deep breath of the sandy heat

It makes my soul crack and the radio too

Please. Need. Response. Know. You. Over.

I want to be surrounded by the stars that cool the atmosphere