one

I am not Catholic.

I do not

believe in Saints.

Have patience, Believers, should I mar

or rupture your image neatly wrapped in placid gauze surmounting wooden pedestals or knock askew

the tinsel crown

cemented on its head.

I only mean

to prove a point.

If

Once upon a time

There lived a girl

called

Jeanne d'Arc

as say

your churches,

Mr. Shaw,

and France,

She must have been

a robust peasant girl

reared

and trained

with boys,

adept with pitchfork

quick of foot

skin toughened

by the sun,

annoyed with the petty

girlish flounce and slip, an awkward toe-stubber

at family socials.

6