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the consolation of orion

julianna mccarthy

It was to be called “The Constellation of Orion” a poem
about isolation, with myth as metaphor; the first line "Dark
Matter" doesn’t even come close. With accidental accuracy,
I tapped out “The Consolation of Orion.” Only Orion
seems beyond consolation separated from his beloved Pleiad,
Merope. I think of him, his club raised, his belt emblazoned
with the brightest of stars, another brilliant globe set in his knee,
& none of these glorious jewels of any value to a man alone,
a hunter robbed of quarry. I expect he walks the past, a game
trail of paler stars flattened by his last passage, in a dream
of this girl he left behind. I expect he pictures her in the virginal
company of her sisters, wearing a crown of fidelity. Sirius
trots at his heels, offering the consolation of a dog’s devotion.
Orion’s path crosses the upper and lower world, earth
that cracked free a scorpion to kill him. Scorpius, would
follow Orion if he could, but the gods consigned him
to the far side of heaven. They pass each other with the day.
Orion rising as Scorpius sets, Scorpius rising as Orion sets;
fixed and imprisoned in the consequence of time. I wonder
if he looks down at us: Orion. In the dark does he seek
the patches of lighted cities, fires, flares? Is it a comfort?
Does it promise love and warmth? Is what we find gazing
at him, remembrance of a unique passion, a brilliant moment, blazing
and variable?