Feeling queasy, uneasy,
stomach churning, room spinning,
I would say I’m hungover
but last night’s tea leaves
wouldn’t make me ill.
I have this awful feeling.
I cross the office floor
reeling, staggering,
like I’m on the deck of a tall ship
adrift on stormy seas.
I cling on to my desk
as I’m thrown around.
The waves swell and crash,
I expect to be drenched,
soaked in sea-water
any second.