In language that bridges the troubled history of the South and her own world as a bi-racial daughter, Trethewey brings a unique perspective to a black and white world, treading the years of state against state, slavery, the remnants of a bitter loss and the barriers constructed to a smoldering past:

“At the cross trussed like a Christmas tree,
a few men gathered, white as angels in their gowns.

It seemed the angels had gathered, white men in their gowns.
When they were done, they left quietly. No one came.”
              (Incident)

“Where the roads, buildings, and monuments
        are named to honor the Confederacy,

where that old flag still hangs, I return
         to Mississippi, the state that made a crime

of me- mulatto, half-breed- native
         in my native land, this place they’ll bury me.”
                (South)

“Before the war, they were happy, he said,
quoting our textbook…

… The slaves were clothed, fed,
and better off under a master’s care.


On a screen a slave stood big as life: big mouth,

Bucked eyes, our textbook grinning proof - a lie
My teacher guarded. Silent, so did I.”
                (Southern History)

(January 1863)
“And are we not the same,
slaves in the hands of the master, destiny?

(June 1863)
“Death makes equals of us all: a fair master.

(1865)
Beneath battlefields, green again,
The dead molder- a scaffolding of bone
We tread upon, forgetting. Truth be told.”
                (Native Guard)