Orion’s Belt Leads Me Home

Orion’s Belt Leads Me Home

The silver light that fades
across the snow waves
the long ice tentacles
reaching up and down
somehow awaken me
as if I heard the creaking
of their growing

I stay in my snub little bed
in my concrete block room
until the clock registers 3 A.M.
My classmates still sleep
in their own monastic-style cells

I trudge out in my sneakers
my purple tights and denim cut-offs
never dressed for weather
into the sub-zero nighttide
pulling my father’s old tweed coat
tight around me

My toes electrify in high drifts
The tips of my fingers, needle-jabbed
I am awake with no golden planetoid
only an aphotic deep blue-black
and seeming breaking of an aril
in my rib cage and an unlikely sprouting
for this time of year

I walk into the woods of maple and pine
snow-muffled muteness
In a clearing I look op to see Orion’s belt
like a chevron, it leads me back
back to my lamasery-dormitory

where there is no mother
no father, no aunt, no uncle
no houses too small
to contain my soul

Lucy Simpson, 9-15-2015

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