sometimes without speech

we made fun
of these—Symbalta
had a gravy boat & butter
to make you comfortable
as Paula Dean’s southern
cooking. i said this to you
one night while you were
stirring. turning from the stove,
laughing, that was a good one.
i wasn’t trying to make fun of her—
she puts too much butter in food,
you would comment, after repeat
commercials selling pills for sad.
increased thoughts of suicide,
diaherrea, vommiting may
occur—sign me up, so you
may die—& laughter broke
over my face at how you could
joke over depression. with all
those enticing side effects, who
wouldn’t buy a bottle to see if
pain increases. your humor
midst worry/fear staring
back at me most days,
whelmed silent thanks
to God, who knew
even then, love
is heavy-

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