“WHEN RFK COMES FOR MY ANTIDEPRESSANTS,” Poem, Jillian Stacia.

I will push him down the well

of my brain, 

smile as he thrashes 

against these raptors.

I will tell him to pray 

for rapture, that the good Lord

likes a good man who smiles,

who opens his legs

and begs for it.

I will let him get lost

in the gray matter 

of me until he sings out

for science, bows

before the savior 

of serotonin.

Fine, I would let him live.

I’m no monster. Mostly, 

I would say: you are not God.

I would push the pill

under his heavy tongue,

let it dissolve into something

resembling decency.

I’d smile as he slurped

up all that sin. 

I’d tell him how heaven 

isn’t always some far-off place.

Sometimes,

it’s simply a pharmacy

where everyone’s entitled

to the things they need to survive.

Jillian wants to live in a world where the coffee is bottomless and the sweatpants are mandatory. Her poetry and creative nonfiction essays have been featured in Querencia Press, Plentitude Journal, Remington Review, Coffee & Crumbs, and Voicemail Poems. When she's not writing, Jillian can be found snuggling with her two adorable children and cheering on the Baltimore Ravens.