Saturn's rings are cheap tricks from these seats;
planetary witchcraft of the most ancient order.
Spin a bucketful of water over your head
and you'll see how easily we can make science
look like both child's play and black magic;
how material in motion is the only real deception
in the repertoire of an illusionist:
a rabbit from a hat, a woman sawn in half,
all just the movement of matter
from one side of the stage to another.
What lunacy it is then to try to trace the birthplace of life on Mars
or order the dawning of Jupiter's many moons
when the galaxy's curtain shows no signs of falling.
George Neame is a publisher of medical journals based in London, but in recent years he has lived in Yorkshire, Dublin and Tennessee. His poetry has previously appeared in Acumen, Antiphon, the Moth, and Ink and Sweat & Tears. In his spare time, he enjoys long walks, board games and exceptionally strong coffee.