The Blind

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On Sundays too he would rise before dawn

and brew a pot of coffee over the fire,

then call the dogs with a backwards yawn

before packing up decoys, weights and wire

in a wicker backpack and two homemade hods.

I’d wait until I could not see my breath–

The sunrise over the lake he said was God’s

own reassurance in divine faith.

So he and I would watch it dissipate,

lying in wait for a chance to imitate

the mellow rasp or nasal hailing call

in ruffled light behind the deadfall

and under the waning eye of Orion

the dog’s Hup our command bird on, bird on.

Late November

Out of the barn a woman came

and moments later came a man,

the length of a ladder between them–

A rung for every year

they’ve cleaned the gutter’s together.

K. A. Markee is a Maine native living on the coast where he is raising five children. He is a graduate of the Stonecoast MFA writers Program and current president of the Stonecoast Alumni Association. He has numerous poems published in journals including From East to West, Cider Press Review, Oleander Review, SNReview and many others.

K.A. Markee

Poetry of K. A. Markee