I Call Upon These Thirsty Demons

Now I know who they are. And they know who we are too. I call upon these thirsty demons. They don't live very far. They don't work for NASA. But neither do they live very far. Just a few lightyears from where we are. There's this drought—famine. Starvation in the hub of my heart In the interior of their conscience That mirrors a folding star. Limitless deserts lick At its crescent emptied space. Don't ask me to dance with you, Don't ask me to swim with you, You, acrid evil fools Don't ask me to look into- Your two olive stone-pitted eyes. 'Reflect.' There's no water in either eye. Neither pool bleeds nor fills— There are no Elysian fields in these cold-dry hills. In our hearts, in our minds, in our breasts Only Martian salt crusts sweep before us in easy rest. ... Is what's left of our long-departed souls?