AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE

After the earthquake I think that Orion

readjusted his belt; it seemed to hang lower

on his waist. I mean, it might have been the change

of seasons, an adolescence. But

the tropics seemed nearer, warmer, and

my tongue wanted to unhook his stars,

and I wanted to see the world unbuckle.

I wanted to see the sky exposed

and shaking. I wanted his bow and his arrows,

unslung, vulnerable. I wanted the tides

to tug him down, down, until

he would topple and fall.