Dear Interplanetary Society
by John Grey
Having surveyed the entire area,
we regret that even the most promising
and flattest of land
is barely arable
But, compared to some places
we’ve taken samples from, it’s Kansas
Yes, a river does run through it.
But forget about irrigation.
It’s merely a trickle.
Beyond this valley, on all sides
are rugged steep hills and towering mountains,
all rock, and no feasible way through
for land transport.
No trees of course.
Just this prickly brush at the lower reaches
that’s been gripping onto
the little rain, the modest minerals
at its roots, for Earth centuries.
There’s no game.
The only wildlife we’ve come across
is small, reptilian,
evolved less than a skink.
And insects of course.
They come in swarms at nightfall
have developed a taste for human skin.
It is a wilderness.
No other name can describe it.
But not the kind for pioneers or conquering.
How will you convince intelligent men and women
to abandon their current lives
for this barren place,
where the air is barely breathable
the weather hostile,
and the ground, a farmer’s nightmare?
It is my advice, though you do not wish to hear it,
that this scheme be abandoned, losses cut,
and you seek your fortune
on some more amenable world.
Or you could just call this planet
“Welcome Acres” and not Pythalian V.
It’s a tactic not unknown to you.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in That, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and failbetter.
Poetry by John Grey:
"Fruit," October 2020
"Aliens in the Home," October 2020
"On a Mining Planet," April 2020
"Take Off and Beyond," April 2020
"An Altair (First) Night," October 2019
"Dear Interplanetary Society," August 2019
"Expedition Beyond the Solar System," August 2019