December Poem by GRANT FRASER

What do you do
when you can't get out,

infinite stretches of red & orange
rock,

shelves so jagged and intricate,
with fifty foot drops,

somebody chasing me,

or something?

is alerted by something else,
or someone...

and I am clambering across
a Ridley Scott film set,
for real,

I don't know what's best if
your following me...

here, where nothing can grow
or live,

life goes on and on in a similar
fashion,

I've been here a thousand times
before,

like getting up for work,

and the red itchy stress marks
blotch my face,

as red as a Santa Hat!