The world is flat

[Philatone]

V. 3

Sibel thumbs islands on a keypad
beneath the tablecloth,

lifting her head at uncle's order,
bottled messages in hand.

Nearby spoons scratch soup bowls,
and her eyes fall on ladders of steam,

climbing into the bulbs
of a chandelier

until frail rungs crumble
into air, chasing after

her words set to sail
off an edge of earth.




V. 2

S.OS.

Sibel thumbs islands on a keypad
beneath the table,

lifting her head at uncle's order,
bottled messages in hand.

Spoons scratch soup bowls,
and her eyes fall on ladders of steam,

climbing into the bulbs
of a chandelier

until frail steps crumble
into air, chasing her words

before they sail off
an edge of earth.





V.1 Texting

A niece thumbs islands on a keypad
beneath the tablecloth,

lifting her head at uncle's order.
She bottles another message

while the room busies itself,
spoons scratching soup bowls,

and eyes fall on ladders of steam.
Climbing into the bulbs

of a chandelier, frail steps
crumble into air, chasing words

she heard sail off
an edge of earth.