The eye of Orion watches from western skies
as he slides along his radio beam
into the waiting arms of oblivion.
And I’m keeping my ear to the ground
listening for his siren call
to wake me from this jealous swell
of my internal symphony.
Orion’s feet are dripping
blues and greys into the mesosphere
of my understanding
threatening to recreate the person
I thought it was.
I told him “I can’t handle the weight.”
But he just rose up to his full height
pointed his bow at the farthest star
and shot an arrow
straight through his heart.