On Mars, two types of volcanoes

dot the plains of loneliness and adoration —

beauty in chrysalis and clay,

in the physicality of sight and the mystery

of disappearing once born. We could never leave

the burning sands that forged us like mountains

left Mars, absent but remembered through lava

paths. In the end, fire is the only memory

that eclipses time, that builds life with ash.

Preston Smith (he/him) holds an MA in English literature, and he writes both poetry and fiction. He can be found on Twitter and Instagram @psm_writes talking about baking and fairy tales. His work appears or is forthcoming in Fairy Tale Review, Tilde, and Perhappened, among others, and his website is psmwrites.com.