Elizabeth Barrette is a freelance writer who lives in Charleston, Illinois. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including Terra Incognita, Fantastic Worlds, and the Mindsparks Science Fiction Poetry Anthology. She also regularly writes reviews for Intermix, The Lost Library of Alexandria, and Infinity Online. Dark Planet is designed and edited by Lucy A. Snyder. If you spot any errors, or if you have any comments, please contact her at lusnyde@indiana.edu. All materials copyright 1996-1997 by their respective creators. No stories, articles, poems or images from this webzine may be posted or published without the written consent of their creators.

The Green Tears of Heaven by Elizabeth Barrette A diamond bit through steel and stone Punched a hole through an asteroid's heart A man stared at the readouts, impatient, Waiting to strike it rich, but his claim Did not cooperate. Naked daydreams flitted through his mind. The wail of sirens snatched him back from bliss, Insistent -- another breakdown, he saw. Grumbling, he scrambled into his suit. Outside, the source of trouble revealed itself: The bit jammed again. He would have to cut it out By hand: hard work, and risky. Reluctance Accompanied him down the dark shaft. Halfway to his goal, he paused Arrested by a glitter of green, a wink In the black eye of night. His headlamp fell On a strange formation -- pinpoints of emerald Embedded in the iron wall. He took his pick And hacked them out, to give his girlfriend Back on Earth: a pocket full of peridots. As he worked to free his drill, again An errant gleam dispelled his concentration This time pale as frost -- no, true frost! Feathers of silver at the edge of sight Where the drill bit deep. I'm rich! he thrilled. I've struck water! Well, ice anyway: H2O. And he capered as much as he could In the tight confines of the tunnel, Chipping the drill bit free. Only when his air meter peeped an urgent warning Did he realize his danger -- too late. They found him four weeks later, a third of the way From the surface, frozen stiff. They gave the gems To his girlfriend, who wept as she warmed them in her hands. She had them set in a necklet of nickel-iron From the asteroid, and wore it often. The water made her rich, and in the new circles She frequented people wondered why She did not bedeck herself with diamonds. But to her, diamonds were for drill bits And death. The peridots, at least, She could see as beautiful Like sirens or will-o-wisps in the whispery dark.