She comes fast, speeding down the left wing board. 
A shot, a rocket, to my new facemask. 
Blackness. Ringing in my ears. No pain. Lord, 
I do not trust myself to stand. The task 
At hand – “Cover it” – a voice far away. 
The puck sits on the ice untouched, no fear, 
Though they could have scored, my team kept them at bay. 
The world is back, I can see, I can hear. 
Am I okay? I’m not sure, I can’t tell. 
When finally I stand, they cheer for me. 
But my mask is unbuckled, shot rang my bell. 
My ProMasque, brand new, three weeks, can it be? 
Defeated, cracked and broken already, 
This is no reason to throw confetti. 


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