I go for the steel hunting sword
the grip is ivory and engraved

with an eyeless lion & a crescent moon
pinned beneath his royal left paw.

Back then, a man could divorce his wife
if he discovered she was a lefty.

I’d also make some arbitrary rules
to get farther away from marriage.

The lambskin pouch that comes with it
smells like the inside of a roller skate.

Musky moist & leather. I must be doing this
sword a favor by taking it out to the open air.

A few swings bringing its glory back to light
—wake up, today is a facial treatment!

All our friends have moved on to other rooms;
they can’t know how we feel about each other &

I know you’ll pick the Renaissance shield with
burnt orange paint in the center.

I want to be around you when you finally
 read about Emperor Ferdinand.

I’ll cross my arms for protection
& ask you what you think of his brass

backplates decorated with crosses & symbols
from the Order of the Golden Fleece,

his elite chivalric society. Do you ever wonder
if you’d have joined any Orders? I want to sign up

for the tour, walk through it, & take it again.
Look at every piece of armor ready to befriend you

like an up & coming flower. Come & pick me
in secret, wide open, gallery style.