30-minute absSometimes, fiction is the best thing to believe in,
culling from us an untouchable loyalty and ardor,
sweat rivering out of us, the purposeful withholding
of that which doesn’t serve that innocent, superior
image our magical thinking drums up. And so we rise,
stubborn, from the mat, limbs in protest, and grind out
another in a set of hard stretches, intent and hopeful, eyes
on the prize. Free of our usual dread, safeguarded from doubt,
we leap into the heart of each rigor, pulling and thrusting.
Drunk on this infinite pursuit, we’ve never been so trusting.