February poetry 3 – Mars One

Mars One

They are prettier now that they are dead,
Now that we can no longer pinpoint why
Exactly she was a huge asshole and
Whether he ever drank too much. We still
Hear their consolations: this too shall pass.

And we’ll never join them in their frosted
Star-shine, no matter how hard we pretend
That killing them off in the same way and
Arranging their corpses with gusto will
Ensure we’ll meet again. How do you do?

Solitude is for social animals
Like you and me. Is that what hell is like
If you were to believe in it? Is hell
A good place? Is it an up-and-coming
Neighbourhood with hip cafes and antique

Shops and very low crime rate and only
Well-integrated, soft-spoken, wealthy
(But not in an intimidating way)
Immigrants peppered thinly over the
Smiling, bright, pink-cheeked faces? You betcha!

They are prettier now that they are dead,
And so we’ll be as well, one day, after
A sufficient amount of time passes
And no one remembers how we pillaged
This hostile, stinky, dusty and surely
Uninhabitable patch of dirt.

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