butterflies and unforgotten mountains
spilling flowers from my palms,
sea salt from my tongue 
I sleep in the middle of my bed 
   with both windows open 

because if the sun had a skeleton
   exo or otherwise 
i think those bones would have the same strength yours must 
glaze baking 

and joan of arc was 14,
sacagawea: 18;
and i am a weak-kneed child, 
looking at the world 
and thinking about myself