Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #5                        Page 59
Table of

A Man

seeing you again as a man,
when i knew you as young--
knew you as growing out of
boy epidermis.
i saw you
and you were fully grown,
your physicality
had nothing left
to conquer.

i knew you
when we were both newer
to the world
and could operate a few things,
but mostly did not fully
how to manage
our organs
that filled with emotions.
my cup was not full
of wisdom,
it was decent for my age
but i would gain much
in the coming years.

and you were harsh
in your behavior,
you were thoughtless
and pretty honest
about this.
but i was still learning
to not be a child
and i would let myself
be swayed
by intriguing qualities
even if they had chains
and weights

and i remember you
like a porcelain doll,
and not yet
very muddled with.
now you're a little more worn,
but with advantage--
you have learned much
from the tools
that grated
on your edges.

you were a boy
and full of youthful
empty space
that would eventually fill with
things about you
that would grow,
but you were in that restaurant
and you were a man--

you were a man.

  Isis Zystrid __

Around the Eyes

i look like my mother
around the eyes.

Others have told me this
And i am taken aback.
so strange
to hear this,
my mother approaches things
so softly
and carefully--
while i have to watch
that i do not pick up things
with too much force,
lest they fly across
the room.

around the eyes,
ovum that i was--
i cannot fake subtlety
within an inch
of my life.
and she loves,
loves deeply
but with lightly placed

do you see my mother
in me,
perchance we encompass
the same qualities
while emitting such variation
within the parts of us
that are more obvious.
she approaches her tasks
with a grace
of well constructed ballet--
carries through precise intent,
daunting one
with the protective layers
she places around our shadows
when we are distracted.

while my every action
expelled through canon
no matter
how to be received--
she taught me unremitting kindness.
She, an emblem of idealism,
In a world that finds itself stark--
But i cannot think this world so bleak
If she appears in oysters
As part of the sea’s
Occassional generosity.
She walks calmly on the earth,
And though at times it seems odd
That a creature such as I
would spring
From her insides,
At other times
I am pleased
To not be puzzled.

  Isis Zystrid__

i told you that i had quit smoking
five years ago
because i was terrified
of getting cancer,
though i have never
been afraid
of dying.
you said you had also
somehow never been
afraid to die,
and maybe
this is why
you went outside my door
for poison
on the half hour.
and i have to recall,
i have eliminated my past vices
and try to be careful
in what gives me my fix--
but inhabiting where i sleep,
you are my ravenously
burning cigarette
that i usually try
to avoid.

too sensitive to be flippant
about such matters,
i usually try to only entangle myself
with those who have
a heart of gold--
that way if they fuck you over,
they at least make an effort
to temper the sting
with their usual kindness.

but gold is a rare commodity--
and though i grudgingly
try to never be reckless,
you burn into the dawn
and i revel in a vice
i know to be wary of
most of the time.

i do not know you well enough
to have observed how sharp
your actions can become.
but perchance i am breaking
all my own rules
because you are from the east coast
and are so very forthright--
and i am numbingly used to
others being so aloof.
either way that scientists
could deduce,
i am rendered
from my own parameters
and on this night
i am not so afraid
of cancer.

  Isis Zystrid__