I’m taking a lot of losses this year.
I’m taking them
Out of cold storage,
Where I kept them on ice
For years and years
Because I never tried,
Never played,
Never chanced at winning;
So the losses destined in my fate
Went into icy stasis
Waiting to be thawed,
Until now.

Now I stand in the ring
My hands behind my back,
My chin stuck out
Inviting the universe to punch me:
To knock me out in one hit like a prime Mike Tyson,
And then watching
As the universe dodges every wild swing,
Like Mayweather.

I eat my losses,
Thawed like microwave dinners
Humbly, every day and night.
And every loss consumed brings with it
Cycles of catharses,
Like spiritual enemas,
To clean me out from within.

One day
I’ll run through the backlog of losses,
And my mind, body, and conscience
Will be crystal clear.

From then on,
Every new loss will be full of hope,
And every win,
Free of guilt.