The cancer shot through Earl like a rainbow
and left a crook in his arm, just right to lift up
the grandchild he’d never held before.
With Andrés it was a stroke that halved him lame
and sent the other half harking
for adventures waiting for his hand.
Laura lost a breast and a lump
of a loser she’d lived with for years.
Now she looks at what’s left of herself and smiles.
What hasn’t my heart failed while finding my way
here? Half drowning in the ink, and dying
to write this to you now.
Hear LC Gutierrez talk about this poem on the Reformed Journal Podcast:
Photo by Johnny Cohen on Unsplash
