Tuesday, 5 May 2015

1 Poem by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois

Zoloft

How I love those little blue pills
oblong

with rounded edges
elegant
as if designed by an ancient Greek sculptor

They selectively inhibit the reuptake of
Serotonin
the substance in my brain
that, if depleted,
makes me consider which of the many ways
of killing myself I should pursue

and realize
even in my deepest misery
that none of them is foolproof

and then I revere those skillful bastards
who have succeeded

But if the re-uptake is blocked
and my brain is rich with that
brilliant lava
I can be nearly giddy with the love of life
and find pleasure
in something as simple
as driving my old car or drinking
a bottle of water

I love the way the holes in the muffler
collectively give voice to the engine
make the car seem more than it is

and the plastic bottle of spring water
refrigerated in my GE
is almost a pure distillate of ozone
a remnant of the pure world
we have sullied so badly

The muscle of my brain is pumped
as if I’d been doing bench presses with it

Humankind rushes toward annihilation
but in my heart I’m not overly concerned
because while placebo may be just as good
in mild to moderate cases
in really severe cases of depression
selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors
really kick ass

Their effectiveness is beyond question
I am giddy with equanimity
I am whole


Bionote

Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois has had over six hundred of his poems and fictions appear in literary magazines in the U.S. and abroad. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize for work published in 2012, 2013, and 2014. His novel, Two-Headed Dog, based on his work as a clinical psychologist in a state hospital, is available for Kindle and Nook, or as a print edition. He lives in Denver.

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