Pills

Pills.
In the morning. In the afternoon. In the night.
Pills with chocolate milk, cranberry juice, mango guava cherry soda.
Oval, diamond, perfect circle,
All on a tea plate (because she deserves that dignity).

Pills to combat the defiant nerves,
Pills to soothe the coward stomach,
Pills to attack the damned cancer,
Pills to stave off the hungry seizures.

The pills render their bill on the hour.
They wait like midwives.
They struggle down the throat,
peppering bitter memories on the tongue,
and make a servant of a mighty warrior.

The pills pill her spirit, and make somber what should be buoyantly sonnant.
Songs of the pills pillowy pillories pillage my sonorous spirit.