Sally J. Johnson's poetry and nonfiction have appeared in the Collagist, Bodega, the Pinch, and elsewhere. Named the winner of the 2015 Poetry International Prize judged by Carol Frost, Sally J. Johnson has also been honored as a finalist in Sycamore Review's Wabash Prize for Nonfiction and won Madison Review's Phyllis Smart-Young Prize for Poetry. She is an educator and writer living in Grand Rapids, Michigan.




Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry: Imago


Sally J. Johnson

Management, Not Cure

If this is mania, let it anoint me. Allow me again the salt of any kind of feeling. In the street, I'd read DANCER, no: DANGER. Isn't that the fuck of it? One doctor said sun would heal me another harm and isn't that it? If not the brain, then the body should be certain. Everything looks like a figure holding a sign far away enough so you can't read the warning but they look like they're jumping for joy.

I'd stopped taking anti-depressants. This was a decision I'd made without medical supervision and with the sad idea that things had to get phenomenally worse before they got better. I had and continue to have such a cautious gratitude for help with my mental health. How can I be sure what is right for me if the problem is what was wrong with me? I don't want to be an expert on myself, but trust no one else to be either. This poem was written in and around that stuck.



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