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You are dizzy again today.


         Your hazel eyes become
                two different birds, one a fat
         sparrow, the other a bloodshot finch.


                   The last two times,
the doctors found nothing.
         Just a brain, we joked.


You return to bed, lie back


                   on the pillow that becomes a cloud,
                             and wag your head side to side,
         the prescribed exercise.


Someday soon the room will stop


                             circling your body like
         a giant bird of prey,


                   will land on the blankets,
         enfolding you with white wings,


                             still.