It’s been storming night and night
In the pouring rain; I drove to my parents’
On the small, two lane highway streets
Of South Michigan at night. Fog was thick.
Later, my sister told me my brother
Shouted, “Victory or death!” over
And over again while they were driving
Through the pouring rain, as well.
My body later awoke me, with chattering
And shivering of my jaw, my body, legs, inside
Me. I was frozen. I got up and told my brother, knowing
I looked ghostly pale in the night mirror and it scared me.
This was June, not December. He said take aspirin and
Lorazepam he had begged me for earlier tonight to assuage his
Severe depression. He said put on a sweatshirt. I did, all of those.
Except give him my meds.
“My name is on the bottle,” I said. I go to my doctors and they give me
My meds. Why don’t you go to get meds from your doctor? I asked.
He said, “They won’t give me any, just Prozac. It’s worthless.”
“Maybe you’re not saying the right things.”
My sister inquired, “You have anxiety attacks?”
“I don’t have panic attacks,” I said, “Just when I can’t take it.”
“The anxiety,” she said. She gets it.