This poem is taken from Stand 224, 17(4) December 2019 - February 2020.

Anna Woodford Two Poems
Portrait of My Grandfather as The Kennewick Man

My grandfather is about 9,300 years old.
        His crania rests outside
any modern group, on the soft banks
    of the River Trent. His greatcoat is open
around his bones which cedar boughs have protected
        from coyote (only the femurs are missing).
He ate salmon and there were small tins
        of low-fat beans in his net-
bag, after widowhood then diabetes.
            His worn molars will not yield
reliable measurements but he speaks to me
    in the five languages Gran said
he knew, in the words Leopolis Lvov Lviv
and in the echo of my father’s stammer.
  His skeleton carries such weight it cannot lie.
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