Self-Portrait as a Hand Weeding
Stefi Weisburd
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Nutsedge, smutgrass, clover.
Next to the knuckle, nicked and scratched, the wedding band
convexes the face looking back.
How much longer will this beauty of yours last?
Like a brass rubbing, mud furrows the fine lines:
On the palm, train trestles to a future arriving sooner every day.
On the back, constellations of pigment and marionette ligaments that
play emperor, casting buffalo grass against
the forked tongue of Bermuda.
