Thirsting
by Isis Zystrid
Illustrated by Shelly Kay
one must at times
put their pin on one side of the map
while keeping others at a safe distance,
but can you forgive me
for thirsting for you
in the night?
i was the hollow of a
slowly made violin,
vibrating and filled
with your skillful ease.
it could be that i shouldn’t admit
with my curiosity
that i longed for the rhythms
that you would sweep
from my outer
to my inner shell.
perhaps it is best
to deny so many things in life,
by not outright defensiveness
but just stubborn inaction.
i shouldn’t still
allow you to curl
my ribbons with your
guiding blade,
perchance i should have existed quietly
unlike every arena of my life.
i cannot blame myself for wanting
the fresh water,
the fresh air
of your eye contact
to my lack of reticence–
i cannot justify the
insincere etiquette
of paying so much mind
to these corks
in the barrel.
Isis Zystrid is a poet who lives in Shoreline, Washington with her husband and cat Ferbert Pythagoras. She has been featured in several literary magazines, zines, and anthologies throughout the years and won the “Editor’s Choice for Poetry” in the Seattle Erotic Art Festival’s 2024 anthology. She can be reached at [email protected] and her Instagram and Facebook artist pages.