On Mars, water once flowed. Where

did it go? Some froze, but scientists
suspect a cosmic cue ball — a comet

etc. — knocked Mars so hard
the planet escaped

its own atmosphere, just
left it there, jumped its own skin

like an anime cat
leaving his pajamas spread-eagle

in space. And now, goddammit,
David Bowie is dead.

I worshipped him like a flower
twists its dewy face to the brightest,

prettiest star. He asked us,
decades down, “Is there life on Mars?”

Once, perhaps. There once was life
in Bowie too. Stars glitter,

planets don’t —
an atmospheric parlor trick,

but neither titan ceases
to exist just because

a little air escaped.