The Martian
       

My mind is all wheels.
                    Four years ago this sol,

I became the only other
                    I know. Take this selfie,

for example—how my one
                    roving eye stares back

at itself with a look almost
                    disquieting in its directness,

which is why I prefer
                    to focus on the mission:

clouds of red silt and the ever-
                    elusive presence of water,

alluvial fan like the lines
                    of an open human palm.

Everywhere you go,
                    there's nowhere to get to,

so I bumble on, a bee
                    in a garden, sampling

each specimen, my
                    aluminum members

all lit and engorged.
                    Happy birthday to me,

I sing to the impact craters.
                    Happy birthday to me,

I sing to Olympus Mons.

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Copyright © 2022 Elizabeth Knapp All rights reserved
from Requiem with an Amulet in Its Beak
Washington Writers' Publishing House
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission