A god for something

amid toxic gingerbread

I scribe with a believing hand

of Mars’s fiery rings

a billion years ago,

his moons have tilted orbits

causing specks before my eyes

like a swam of flies in honey

they float on Martian tides

stained a rich vermilion

from the roots of ancient wars,

taste the rosebud full on my lips

a surviving record of memory

it is a god for something.