orion wears his belt a little cock-eyed, as if it doesn’t
fit right, always sliding down,
a distraction that spoils his aim, he can’t chase danger
with his drawers around his ankles, his glory unreached, his weapons borrowed
or stolen, his ambition two sizes larger than his stick figure manifestation,
much too thin for a warrior, who can take him seriously, this stormy boy who
haunts the left hemisphere
