St. Joan's Sword In Late Afternoon Sun - Poem by John O'Malley
On the way to work each morning you walk by her:
in green grass, face upward, horseless and bronze-armored.
Not once has she glimpsed at your office building
where armed security guards care just about your name.
You step off the elevator, enter a door and dutifully
go through the quotidian order.
Meaning well, you decide to meet an acquaintance
during happy hour.
On the open courtyard, in the five-o'clock sun,
you stop and notice her sword ablaze against a blue May sky,
a defiance ascendant with her sad eyes.
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