Light morphs this Martian moon into sculptures
of varied substances: At a distance,
dull glaze of ancient clay pottery, or
rusted, pockmarked sea mine, or—with brief glance
of planet shade—charred remains of human
skull. Closer, bright reflection fools your eye,
feigning magnified view of great Rodin’s
glowing bronzes: dimpled nipple of shy,
Kneeling Fauness, or cupped mouth of his shamed
Eve no longer shielded by folded arm.
This space museum won’t last long. Its famed
place in Mars’s orbit gives way to harm
from gravity. Tidal forces one year
will crush it to rubble. So much for Fear.
Roger Armbrust
April 14, 2008
