The room is horizontal.
A spinning tunnel.
Over.
Around.
Under.
It stops
and starts
without warning.
No handhold.
I teeter.

Maybe
this is just
the Earth’s
rotation.
But somehow
I am disconnected
from the globe.
A wobbly post.
Off-center
and swaying
as planet-carousel
revolves.

Or perhaps
all else is still,
and it is my brain
that somersaults.
Sloshing,
circulating,
swirling
inside my skull.

Spinning tunnel?
Detached planet?
Sloshy brain?

Whatever.
Enough.

Be still.

Photo Credit: Kevin Dooley | flickr