by Jennifer Markell

It isn’t green at all, this suit

you call Dress Greens,

not the color of living things

but what remains when a river

of ice is drained. You align

your shirt buttons with the front

fly seam, straight gig line

with the belt buckle’s edge.

Pin a grenade to your lapel,

sallow eagle, frozen in flight.

Turning to face the mirror,

you catch your reflection taking aim.

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Jennifer Markell's poetry collection, Samsara (Turning Point, 2014) was named a “Must Read Book of Poetry” by the Massachusetts Book Awards, 2015. Recent honors include the Firman Houghton award from the New England Poetry Club and Finalist for the Rita Dove Prize in Poetry (International Literary Awards, 2016). Her work has appeared in publications including Consequence, Gulf Stream, RHINO, Tinderbox, and The Women’s Review of Books. A psychotherapist, Jennifer's interested in therapeutic uses of writing.