Rowan Mitton





And sliding backwards across the blue arabesque slate
Of cards
Her euchre fingers pull back and release
To twang
Like bowstrings. I play Saint Sebastian for a bit
For her
Unsure of how much wine is leaking down arrow shafts
Swan feathers, anthocyanin, with spots of bright like
On an anther, or the stars over the restoration prairie where I lose
My shit
And Madonna of the Biological Field Station keelhauls my rubberneck
YellowThrough cats eye marbles and hoists me up
The lead veins of her stained glass, the supple plastic vault of an empty two liter
Dropping me on a deck of bleached cedar. C. libani she
Disciples remove, examine with disdain and carefully arrange my toiletries
To form
A ring, then retreat to the margins of the mosaic to mutter Spanish
And see
Vomit frame my head in a biting tannin crown
See me
Collect her image in the morning
It carefully; About my naked neck, where
Mary can hang all summer long



Rowan Mitton is newly a Master of Science in Environmental Sciences but, being a person of at least two dimensions, his true area of expertise is behaving foolishly. In an upcoming project titled tentatively “Foolishness for Bikes” Rowan will embark on a half-baked tour of Spain by bike in order to answer the age old question: “Is smelling to high heaven actually a form of communion?” Other lines of inquiry he hopes to tie off include: “How quickly will I get sick of sleeping on the ground?” and “How bad is my Spanish after years of neglect?” Rowan is also a zealous player of browser based Tetris, an on-again off-again admirer of cheap gins, and an amateurish (but passionate) lover of history. Current fascinations include Ethiopian and Hungarian history.

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