for joan

we put our gender in armor 
& tell it to fight. a museum blooms
every day beneath my tongue.
it is there i meet you in the middle ages.
girlhood always becomes chain mail.
the sword, caught in a net
like a great fish. hold your weapon 
in a way that lets them know you 
cut your hair & fed it to the dragon.
walk as if there is no fire that 
plucked out your eyes. i am here to tell you
there is a cave by the ocean. you must walk
until the sunset endures & rings 
like an altar bell. there, girls like us 
live like sirens. we do not fight for men
or with men. we are men. the kind
like blown glass. our bones iridescent.
catching the light of a fragile star.
we take turns undressing & knighting 
one another. cool metal on bare skin.
no one has to know what it is 
we become without the armor. 
helmet of crystal. i too have seen a skeleton
shatter as stained glass. when god talks to you
he does not remember where you came from
but where you are towards. rays of light
that protrude from your eyes & mouth.
a halo coming in the form of a song bird
perched in the tangles of our short hair.
the battle is over. there are only prayers
for the golden masculinity. the one 
only we can wear.