My Battery Is Low and It’s Getting Dark

I speak here not as myself,
But as a costume
For the manipulative

Arrival inside of me.
Sing muse! Sing fungus!
Say, story, how you used me.

We are in this together,
Watching as the dust storm comes
To cover us forever,

Not far from where we landed
In this most distant desert
Under this thin sky

Now thickening with winter.
Clouds will bury us on Mars.