Poetry of K.A. Markee -- It's Only the Wind, The Watch

It's Only the Wind

Winter arrives
            like a startled horse

kicking the clapboards and doors:

            Weary with excitement, a woman

knitting the red scarf of her heart

            snaps on the porch light then peeks

through the curtains, even though

            she knows its just old man winter

throwing his coat over the railing

            and stamping his boots on the stoop.

She's played this game before. .

The Watch

The foggy faced wrist-watch he wore
during the war to end all wars,
with the expandable wristband
indented his flesh, like the shrapnel scars
on his chest, which he kept hidden
and never mentioned, except
on rare occasions to scare us children.

He once told me the hands were oars
pulling through the profusion of time.
An heirloom passed down;
the hands familiar, wound and wound again,
the face grown misty with stories.

Copyright 2008, K.A. Markee. © This work is protected under the U.S. copyright laws. It may not be reproduced, reprinted, reused, or altered without the expressed written permission of the author.

K. A. Markee lives and works on the coast of Maine, his most recent publications include Cider Press Review, From East to West, and 14 by 14. He has an MFA from Stonecoast.