artwork for Claire Scott's poem Post Prozac

Post Prozac
Claire Scott

Tall buildings no longer call to me
no siren song of sharp knives
or pills swallowed with scotch
no dreams of knotting nooses
looping rope around a rafter
kicking a chair away
I walk straight past the guns
in my stepfather’s house
lined up behind a glass door
like soldiers waiting for war

How to live in this unexpected
world, how fill time without
writing and rewriting final notes
imagining tears at my memorial
chain chewing Wrigley’s gum
while I think of yet another way
like swallowing bleach
savoring the last burning breath
posters of Cobain line my walls
books by Plath and Sexton
fill sagging shelves
I don’t know the rules anymore

I open the curtains
forsythia flames yellow
I cover my eyes blinded
by the pain of possibility
but I can still feel
the warmth of the sun

Claire Scott’s Comments

What happens after depression has lifted? The new “Post Prozac” world is unfamiliar to the speaker who feels the pain of possibility. The world of depression is airtight and safe. As a therapist, I have seen that the transition can be a difficult one.

Table of Contents

Frigg: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 60 | Fall/Winter 2022