Rowe’s Fawn

When Ireland was a cloud in the west

that could flex with the waves it was not

unknown for women to keep the Host

in their mouths in order to win a kiss:

falls of high-protein manna,

much of it gnaws at Ireland from afar.

Make of your left hand

not two triangles stitched together

but a throne for your right,

like the darnel—like the arm

of St Gertrude emerging from her shrine

to receive offerings.