my room is spinning on its axis a planet
in orbit around the sun, the sun. or maybe
it’s me who’s spinning falling, grounding into
the carpet with its frayed edges off-white matted
- but my eyes are searching for maps in
the patterns on my ceiling they never move
and yet each time i see something new.
there’s a vase of lily-of-the-valleys at the foot of my
bed and they’re dead but i haven’t thrown them out.
the leaves are yellow and brown and the flowers
are all dried and crispy but they still look kinda pretty
and i wonder if they’d crumble if i touched them.
i wonder what’s wrong with being a little
undone after all here i am
laying on the floor again and i can’t find my sense of balance.
when i’m bored i hold my breath and count the seconds before my body
makes me breathe again. reminds me how i don’t want to die at least
not yet. there’s shadows on my curtains from the tree
and they’re dancing with me, spinning spinning ‘round the room
alone is nice now and then so i can forget to be grown
up my eyes can’t see the sun but it’s there in orbit