On the floor of my mind
I sit, weightlessly
rocking back (back, back)
and forth
casting my reel
into lunar lakes of thought
its slender line
sinking (down, down)
into the brine basin
then cautiously, cautiously
dipping my toe in
before retracting it back
as its ice cold grip
tries to pull me in;
for once I slip into these waters
I might lose myself
fall down (drown, drown)
and suddenly forget
how to swim.