LC Gutierrez
Self-Portrait as Weed Twisting in the Wind"
With the help of day-
light scorched and parched.
The grace of rain
fresh drubbed.
With drops unstopped
fat and fast as fists.
Would hold in shifting light.
Would, in fleeting balance.
Would have drowned for sated.
Would, for bees to leaves.
But for foul wind snaps.
But for mud-dug coursing.
But for frost-mouthed patience.
Here the field-blood lovers.
Here the wet discovered.
Here new roots for rot.
Here to rest to die.
LC Gutierrez is an erstwhile academic and product of many places in the deep southern US and the Caribbean. He currently lives, writes, teaches, and plays trombone in Madrid, Spain. His work is published or forthcoming in many wonderful journals, such as Notre Dame Review, Tampa Review, Rust and Moth, Hobart, Blood Orange Review, and Trampset. He is a poetry reader for West Trade Review.