Latex masks still down
the dew of guilt on our foreheads
the dim amber of the city’s night
the roar of the van
the stares out of windows
the faces that cling to us
the streetlights that move too quickly
the worms under our skin
the silence that screams behind us
the photos in our gloves
the songs we played in better times
the shining tools we look away from
the ghosts of those we must meet
the families we imagine for them
the louder thoughts
the lives we should have lead instead
the forgiveness we need for the things we must do
Pray for us
Latex masks up