Once upon a smooth night sailing,

the edge was found of the world.

Where moon had the sun suspended

and light fell deep and fathomless dark.

Spinning on a disk with no ending,

all planetoids much the same.

Like plates, twirling, whirling,

the oceans sloshed and continents jiggled,

on their sleepy molten beds

and hanging, suspended off the edge

was what every cat had ever knocked.

A hairtie, a wrench, some string,

a figurine, a d20(an 18, good luck perhaps?)

and my magazines. Such a strange and silly thing,

a flat world without curves.

So that is why the cats enjoy

knocking things off the edge.