In Gilead there does exist a balm
that keeps me a functional and normal human,
but now, effective next month, those who rule
Gilead, on official stationery
qualming out their deep regret, inform me,
it will no longer be on their formulary.
Oh that’s nice. I’m being jerked around.
My first response was I would go and find
that son of a bitch pill counter, hunt him down,
break into his office like James Bond,
and — pardon me, not meaning to offend —
stick that letter up his latter end.
My second response, the first one being flawed,
was, rather, to employ a cattle prod.