These poems, odes to the medication Erlichman takes, brought me into her world of living with Bipolar Disorder. 

Erlichman's complex relationship with Lithium teeters between marveling affection to reluctant acceptance. In "Cliff," she "[comes] to know what [its] absence always means" after self-adjusting the dose to be 2/3 of her regular amount: "[e]very day knived sharper & doused in electricity" and unbearable. Her unwillingness to stay fully with Lithium stems not just from side effects (which she notes is just part of "living your life" in "Side Effects") but also the need from "wanting to be 'natural'" ("Natural"). But what is "natural" if not just a societal construction of normalcy, clearly demonstrated by a friend who says she would never take drugs after just taking her own birth control pills ("Pink Noise")? 

So these poems arrive at a love, a love that seeks to topple the ableism and stigma of mental illness. Erlichman speaks words of endearment in "Lightweight," tenderly noting that Lithium makes the wine feel a heck of a lot better for her. She marvels at its efficiency over her being, her sanity, asking: "Who do you speak to in my body that listens" ("The Watchman")? She calms it like a lover, speaking of the other medication she spent time with before now, attributing her lived life to what they had given her ("There Were Others"). And she says to Lithium in "If You Were Someone": "You'd be real. I'd hold you & thank you." 

The stigma of mental illness cannot be dismantled without examining the stigma of taking medication—as well as the ways that medication is/isn't available to certain communities. These poems are a must-read because of this.