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The nutritionist said I should eat root vegetables.
Said if I could get down thirteen turnips a day
I would be grounded, rooted.
Said my head would not keep flying away
to where the darkness lives.

…

The pharmacist said, ‘Lexapro, Lamicatl, Lithium, Xanax.’

The doctor said an anti-psychotic might help me
forget what the trauma said.

The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems.
Nobody wants to hear you cry
about the grief inside your bones.’

But my bones said, ‘Tyler Clementi jumped
from the George Washington Bridge
into the Hudson River convinced
he was entirely alone.’

My bones said, ‘Write the poems.’

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