Mike Stone's poem is only a few lines long, but it packs a big feeling into them. The speaker is far away from someone they care about, and they express that distance through the night sky. Orion is a constellation people recognise from almost anywhere, but its look changes depending on where you stand on Earth. Here, the hunter's scabbard hangs on the "other hip," which tells us the speaker is somewhere so different that even the familiar stars have flipped around. The poem doesn't state this as a fact so much as let us notice it.
The mood is lonely and quiet. The final line, "In the pin-pricked void," makes space feel empty and cold, with the stars reduced to tiny holes in darkness. The speaker doesn't say "I miss you" outright. Instead, the strange, reversed sky does the work. Even something that should be a comfort, a shared constellation, now feels slightly wrong, and that small wrongness makes the separation feel real.