by Jan Napier
inside my head a spin cycle that won’t click off.
sideways lurch looping swoop eyes shut blurry whirl
throat hosts acidic rise of tide.
glance ceiling swings lampshade swims jellyfish in a creamy sea
tissue box yachts table top white sail yaws window-wards.
waking tilts gravity synch slips
and again weightless sheets fisted I sway falling orbital.
they’re not making maps any more no bread crumbs lead me back.
sliding palm along plaster steps drunken butterfly flight
I high wire walk hall carpet
my jeans a blue handstand on the clothes horse.