the flat earth 

they say we're supposed see saturn tonight,
faint like a thumb print on the glass dome.
i don't look because i don't want to know
whether or not it's too cloudy to see stars. 
okay, i'll say it:
i sympathize with flat earthers. 
i too distrust
obvious science. to think, all these planets
as thin as sheets of paper. what are we 
held aloft by? maybe it's trust. 
a collective belief.
that's so dangerous, i love it. 
how am i expected to believe saturn would
bob to the surface just for me? i stand 
outside. it is hot & shimmering sun. 
tomorrow in the city the ground
will roll out humid & grey & 
i will think nothing about the surface of earth
or saturn or stars. the sun is not
a star. the stars out there are scattered
& beautiful. the sun is here to haunt us.
this is the different between fire 
& salt. i steal salt packets from the employee kitchen.
this building is worth more 
than any planet & more than 
any one of my family members. tall & glass. 
at night it reflects city lights, not stars.
whose job is it to work the projection
of the night sky? how do they keep 
that secret? or maybe they don't, maybe
they live alone like anchors did 
in medieval times, alone in a room
praying all day to reach god. 
each day i get farther from anything divine.
it's wonderful. sometimes i can imagine 
the edge is close. maybe if i walked 
too far up the street i would find it.
i could sit & hang my legs over
the depths. i did not see saturn tonight
because i didn't remember to look. 
i was more devastated than i should be.
it's just a planet. just a great big 
sheet of paper. there are no 
wandering lives on its surface. 
no maps & countries with violent borders.
there is just a blur of color.
the person operating the sky tonight
curls up on the floor of their life.
i sleep in a room with no windows
like like theirs.