On Mars no oxygen
Breathable air that is….
It would hardly carry the soft voices of
Elliot Smith
Nick Drake
Vashti Bunyan
Light as they are…
they would only float in a vacuum
defying weight
defining lightness as
a babies fingers touching
a mother’s face
sunlight embracing a crystal
a whisper passing through reeds
a Jetstream unstitching
a blue sky
a quantum sigh
nothing more or less felt in
The Ballad Of The Oxygen Mask
as nothingness is left unexplained
If I put my shilling in the Mars jukebox
What shall I play?
Northern Sky?
Angel In The Snow?
Winter is Blue?
The titles feel like Cosmic dust
between the fingers’
when missing
someone so badly
It feels like a dead planet
where there is no day or night
only whispered songs of love
stranded on a different planet
an incalculable distance away
blindsided
as space debris floats past
silently.
.
Malcolm Paul
.