Quick tilt

Hours of numbers, the screen's pale light

aching behind my eyes. I stood up, too fast,

a mistake, the cheap chair scraping on tile.

The room went grey, then black, a sudden blast

of nothing. My stomach lurched, a quick trial

of balance, and the floor seemed to rise, a fright

that settled quick, or mostly. My hand flew to the table's edge,

a cold, solid line against the spin. The desk lamp bloomed

into a fractured star, a sudden ledge

of chaos in the quiet, contained room.

It passed. But left a memory, a thin fear

that the ground beneath could just disappear.