Orion’s Belt

let it be known that when I die I am staring up at Orion’s Belt
and thinking of love in big wet swooping ways
for now though I am baking the vantage loaf
gluing crumb to crumb and hoping it makes merit
swapping out Having a Coke With You for Lana
fake depth too
can still feel the bristle of hands running through the crew cut
the part of me that should know didn’t form properly in utero
and the woman outside the coffee shop keeps telling me
‘it’s sadder when you stop finding your dead dog’s hairs on everything, actually’,
years after they’re gone
so now I’m stuck worrying about whether I’ll ever feel the things I need to
a katabatic murmur carrying itself to those three staunch little blips
the only stars I even learnt the words for