On a Frozen Planet

Snow. Everywhere snow.
Snow at their poles of course.
But snow piled high on their equator?
So far from their sun
yet teasing us with all this frozen water...
what manner of world is this?
We lost three men yesterday,
swallowed by drifts.
And another blown
this-way that-way by a blizzard.
A tear in his suit
(and they said that couldn't happen)
exposed Marshall to the incredible cold.
Never did a man burn so blue.
What's the point
of all this wasted liquid
when there's desert planets thirsting
for the merest raindrop?
But then again
don't I dream of Angela
though she's been dead so many years.
Maybe this planet dreams.
And it's some wretched lifeless world
that sears those dreams.

John Grey is an Australian born poet, playwright, musician. His latest chapbook is The Body's Last Days from Richard Geyer, Publisher. Recently in Weird Tales and Penumbric.

Find more by John Grey in the Author Index.

Comment on this story in the Aphelion Forum

Return to Aphelion's Index page.