Boy Who Thinks the World is Flat
The square and stationary earth is what
you say upon my bedroom sheets in sex.
I laugh and leave behind your maps. You draw
my face in pools of soap. On buttered toast.
You tell me that the world is flat. Forget
what Galileo said. Astronomy
is simple stuff. Just twist beneath the stars
and think about the planet’s chest. And what’s
a girl to do but grin? My supper plates
are like the moon, but answers aren’t for you
to give. I will admit, the talk was fun—
I can’t believe the world is flat. But don’t
you leave a rose in bed for me. I can’t
believe we are the same. I can’t believe.
Sara Ryan is a first-year poetry MFA candidate at Northern Michigan University and an associate editor of poetry for Passages North. Her poetry has been published in Boxcar Poetry Journal, Bear Review, Jai-Alai Magazine, The Boiler Journal and various anthologies, and is also forthcoming from Crab Fat Magazine and Storm Cellar.