Poem: Armor


Standing in the museum the guide tells you
the weight of the armor,
what it is made of.
She tells you the cost
and how it takes a page to help you put it on.
all this protective iron and steel.
You know all this already.
What she does not tell you
is how you take it off.
when it is no longer needed.

About this poem

A poem about trauma. And armor, if you need it. Too many of us do.

The photograph was taken in the Worster Museum.


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