ORION

by Caroline Keeler

I am the huntress with that bite, that scorpion sting.

What, in your blindness, do you suspect
in my vibration, my desperate hands?
A grasping need rises up in me-in your presence I am powerless to the pull
that exiles you to another sun-a place among the stars,
an abode you cannot share.
I will never be with you in legends,
for I cannot reach that bright belt.
Opposite am I to it-- the seashore to your sky.
Was it misguided desire that tossed me from that realm?
Were you never curious about these uncharted depths?
Alas, I gaze up at you, nightly, on my back
as your celestial cycles drag me,
eroding my serpent spine.
How I long for that vastness, that visible spot.
My own heart masked by murk while yours ignites,
unmistakably set.
The hurt I hurl at you seems in vain-my aim is fated to be faulty.
There's no message I can send you-no map, no marking.
The sea goddess with a bargain so cruel,
a monster is made of my parched tongue.
From a swollen silence she rises at dusk
to glimpse her beloved,
helpless to stop his formation-those points she is cursed to connect with a shaking finger;
what on this Earth have you done to me?