Not a lady you
Stand like a casual god and
Fashion with your hands a man
Out of clay,
Strong man-hands
Pressing, your forward knee catching your
Balance, at rest, at your
Work, your war, I see
The sinews in your arms and your strong
Weighted brow.

No womanly woman you
Hold your chisel, your smoothing thumb, you
Make not a man but
One of your own –
Joan raises her sword fist to the sky,
Alive already ready to leap into
Battle and you say
Me too
That chisel, that pressing thumb, you
Say this is the way I create,
This is the way
I fight now.