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Clouds seed tears
upon your skin –
probably more similar to frost,
rain pearls slowly sink
deep down the ice layers –
your eyes
are tired metallic mist.
The raindrops are volcanic rocks
like basalt in the Venetian lowlands.
Everyone seems to complain
whenever it rains on Earth,
even in Belgium…
Oh, God, please, rain me
To those shoulders and this umbrella!
Let me fall between the stars,
let me see what it feels like
to land
on this particular zinc flower,
these hands, this Mars.
Mars is close.
It’s practically right next door.
It has mountains, and has lake holes,
and recognisable landscapes.
Mars is an opportunity for me
to carry forward my love,
and yet, the only rain on Mars
is the kind I imagine.
Clouds seed tears
over the
slowly drying planet.
Oh, God, please, rain me there…