January 2

This one now asks me,

“Which mask are you sick of?

When and HOW does the outgrown fade to ash?”

So, as you find yourself

-feet pressed squarely 

against gravity, hands afold-

WE ask back:

“Who’s here to brush the dust and ash off of the clean white face of home-plate; hastily crossed, gracelessly scuffed while scoring, in a flurry, a drooling mess, monstrous and desperate for renewal... when one isn’t even a sports fan?”

You are. We’re the only ones responsible for the people we imagine ourselves to be.