BLACK TABLETS #meds #mentalillness #poetry


There are no black ones.

There are speckled and striped, marbled and toned, stamped and engraved.

There are yellows and purples and reds, whites and blues and maroons.

Cylindrical greens, bullet shaped browns, blue UFO’s .

Depending who’s asking the question

I’ll call them the duchesses’ pearls,

I’ll call them my coral medallions,

I’ll call them my found–on-the-moon beads,

my gems-washed-up-at-high-tide,

my quartz -from-the-rainbow’s-end.

There are no black ones.

I gobble two yellows

to settle the shakes from the blues,

and a trio of whites to lap up the sweats

I get from the yellows.

I know that the lavenders tickle my heart

to keep it from dozing,

that the ruby-and-blues hoover up dirt in my veins,

that olives are flour to thicken the soup in my blood,

that greys are riot police

scattering the mob in my head,

that greens nuzzle my eardrum and hum me to sleep,

that cherries send word to my throat

to remember to swallow the others.

Hold on there a minute till I catch my breath

and swallow a glass of water.

It’s a tablet for a tablet

and a pill for a pill

and some time soon

I well get will.