One, with a layer of dust on it,
behind the toothbrush holder
below the hand towel.
Vitamin D – to curb panic,
to promote happiness.
Useless and old and forgotten.

Two, to replace the vitamins,
sitting front and center
among the more useful bottles.
Prozac – half-finished,
sometimes forgotten.
Huge capsules hard to choke down
every morning with a glass of water,
and the anxiety they are meant to stop
making it difficult to swallow.

Three, four, and five, nearly empty canisters of
antibiotics – not much else
to be said about them.

Six, for times of emergency,
awake in the early hours when sleep is necessary.
Melatonin – for forcing the heavy blanket of slumber.
Strong, but not prescription.
All-natural, from the health store in town.

Seven, the newest bottle to replace
the many emptied ones.
Painkillers – over-the-counter, perhaps,
but abused nevertheless.

Eight, completely emptied, tipped on its side
by the empty glass of water, standing in its own plastic wrapping.
Tylenol –.