The world is flat

[billy]

V. 2

S.OS. s. o. s.

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, this and the next couplet holds a great image

climbing into the bulbs
of a chandelier

until frail steps crumble would rungs be better than steps.
into air, chasing her words

before they sail off
an edge of earth.

not sure the last couplet works as well as it should, other than that just an odd nit. while i get a hint of titanic it feels a bit too generic. i'd like to see some real fear etc.

thanks for the read.