Chris Tusa - Prozac

Divine and white,
you’re an aspirin fit for the gods,
the powdery ghost of Gandhi
conjured into a bottle,
glorious as the bones of Buddha
ground into white dust.
How truly miraculous
the way you dissolve on my tongue,
like a peppermint, like a host—
the way you bury my grief
like a diamond ring, like a seed.

Chris Tusa

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/prozac/