"While Trying to Make an Arrowhead in the Fashion of the Mattaponi Indians": a poem by Kevin Powers

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We are born to be makers of crude tools.
And our speech is full of cruel
signifiers: you, me, them, us. I
am sure we will not survive.

No. I am only certain that the
pine trees that ring this lake in Virginia
are occasional, that I sit between them
at the water’s edge,

cast two stones against
each other and rest.
For we go down
through these
terrible hours
together.

***

Kevin Powers is an Iraq war veteran whose award-winning first novel, The Yellow Birds, was published in 2012. His debut poetry collection, Letter Composed During a Lull in the Fighting, will be published by Sceptre next month.

This article appears in the 05 March 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's power game

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