The Last Poem I Ever Wrote
I think my Zoloft stopped working.
Pen in hand. Words in head.
But blank canvas – blank canvases
Maybe my Zoloft stopped working…
Or we’ve had 12-too-many rainy days
And the canvases haven’t held paint since May
Yes, I’m certain that my Zoloft stopped working.
But I zip the sides of my skull open
And drop 100 milligrams in, like a child swallowing candy.
They dissolve in stomach acid
And happy chemicals float to my brain
where there are
only blank canvases.