Doses and Over

Pills, like tiny universes in themselves,
spherical, flat, ovoid and hued to set
the drab afire often, bottled with caps
strong-arming said pills as if to call
attention to pharmaceutical closure,
list somewhere unknown to us
the sure-fire remedies for ague
or sprain or ache, yet bide
like licentious lures
for someone ill-advised
and overwrought, (let’s call
her Eve), to ingest with élan
quantities exceeding even a glutton’s
part, thinking that, just perhaps, more
is recipe forthright like so much glitter
on the Yuletide tree, that pills aplenty
would suffice to oust unwanted maladies
like marshals did in days of Dodge,
like conflicts utilizing guns
in corrals (not so OK) rife with lead
and smoke arriving at the cost of death.
Oh, eat your apple, Eve, and sin all right,
yet scrutinize the labels so
and gulp not pills with blatant
fervor, but heed the recommended
dose, the dose to free and not imprison.
Yes, prisons come with gulps of want
and bars are cold just like the floor,
yet even further down there’s ice
and none so strong can 
rouse the heart
when death shrouds one so young.
What is the lure?  White Lotus,
Bennies, Speed, the ticket
out of here. 

He warned you, Eve,
the label clear,
he would not lie to you…

She should have listened when
he said to use as directed.

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
7-19-16