A letter from your doting fans
The path
of the gladiator
is fraught.
It’s not
what you are
but what you’ve done.
Prostrate
yourself
on the crossover.
Tear you calves,
your skin,
your shirt.
Be light
skin and
dark-blood.
Smiles
appear only when
clocks wither.
If your ankle
snaps we will
mourn you
until we find
a suitable
replacement.