poetry page

So Flat's the World

Life's edge, a sheer and steeper drop.
Flailing ships, no masts on top
Clawing back on broken nails
Clasping waves that foam white trails.
A fat red sun in empty space
A sharp black line, a shadow's trace,
The ships are gone, their crew is doomed
they believe
"Here there be monsters,"
the sea's a sieve
They're lost forever, but lo! astound!
Over the edge, the world is round...