you visit
the met one
cool spring
day in new york
and lean
towards
the armor
glistening
behind
the glass. no
arrows could
penetrate
the rounded
shoulders
and sharp
edged hat,
the lance is
there too, so
long and
balanced in
the glove
of grey mail.
and it makes
you think about
your own armor.
so different
and yet so alike
in so many ways,
protecting
the heart.
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