Constellation I (Orion’s Belt)

Prizes, consolatory ones. 

I can name a few

The big ones are treasures beyond riches 

They are named love, hope, dreams 

And in their eyes, 

Our humanity reflects back at us, 

—the best gift.

No matter the mood: 

They are accessible 

So

You open the chest 

You expect Pandora, 

We are trained for the worst, after all: 

Fight or flight, all a fright 

  

But instead, you get 

—festival of the highest order 

A loud moonless night 

engulfed by the Milky Way  

And Earth’s buzzing darkness  

At once dangerous with its 

Silvery lichen, 

Vulnerable, finally, with its

Green, soft night moss

Nature’s rave 

Our Universal dance 

All that is known, the biggest expanse 

Laid right there, 

bare before your feet 

Begging for your touch 

But instead of plucking off 

The smallest piece, 

One star 

Or even a twinkle

Knowing that’s all you’d get

And still be able to keep your hand: 

You close the box. 

And wait for the next galaxy 

To crash, lid open, into your wanderlust, 

Fortified castle of a soul 

Thinking to yourself things like… 

“I am not a satellite!”

“No thanks for the consolation; 

Not even a constellation! 

I am the prize 

And

I’ll take the whole sky instead.”