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Two Poems // Alyssa Hanna



on taking 60mg

instead of 40— if

these pills were people, they’d be as old

as my dad, who insists he

does not need therapy, but i

do— i find a new contact,

a cataract. i keep reading license

plates on 287 instead of watching

the cars ahead— dad told me

that distracted driving is just as bad

as drunk driving; i was fourteen in a school

parking lot, practicing to take my mother

to the hospital in case she got sick

again— and my eyes feel filmy like some

kind of milk, can’t really—

remember, little girl, he said,

you are wielding a two ton death machine

focus on the fact i am windfast and broken

side mirror— the freedom to drive comes

with the responsibility of holding lives

in your palms—, just keep gazing past

the gold horizon.

on taking 1.5 doses

and not telling my doctor

because i am afraid of what

he’ll say but i am no

longer listless, lying in a poppy field, red

faced and counting sheep but losing

after three—

is this how my neighbor lives?

awake enough for commute, corner

office, energy after for the

voices of his children?

the capacity to be a person, to be capable of

showering and cooking on the same goddamn day,

every fiber of skin content, in its proper

place, no neurons firing shots into this

nothing: the closed space of bone, alive.

alyssa hanna graduated from Purchase College in 2016. Her poems have appeared or are upcoming in Reed Magazine, The Naugatuck River Review, Rust + Moth, Pidgeonholes, and others. She was nominated for a 2017 Pushcart Prize, a finalist in the 2017 James Wright Poetry Competition, and a semi-finalist for The Hellebore scholarship. alyssa is a Contributing Editor at Barren Magazine and an aquarium technician in Westchester, living with her four weird lizards. follow her @alyssawaking on twitter, instagram, ko-fi, tumblr, and patreon.

Image by Jesse! S?

#vol8 #poetry #alyssahanna #mentalillness #pills

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