When I woke that morning I felt as if
I had a slight fever; warm and viscous
with the slippery perception of vertigo.

My vision was clear, but tepid
and it slid. There was the suggestion of
oblivion in the periphery, like optical

vignetting, like low blood pressure.
Movement was a slow, shaky playback.
My whole body listed sideways –

I was an ungainly ship, and the air had waves
in it, twittering, full of static.

Read the rest of Overland 223

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