Drift

A poem that describes what coming out of a seizure feels like.

thought twirls away
tiptoes through my fingers
lost in this darkness.
                   Where has the world gone?
nothing to see
scream from the shadows
I don't know this voice.
                   Where am I?
the room shakes
like when we drove down
rock-laden roads in New York.
                   Is that where I am?
She begs me back
urgent whispers slice through
the dark fog in my mind.
                   What's happened?
daylight's pike impales my skull
strangers toss questions
dust on the spring breeze.
                   I don't care.
my stomach whirls
devil's dance, sour steps
take their turn on my tongue.
                   It's stopped.
wave the strangers to the door
medic bags at their sides, they
leave this broken prize behind.
                   They don't understand.
befouled, stench-clad teeth set
push bruised limbs from unkind floor
to bed, where sleep may yet refuse me.
                   It's my fault.