Miscegenation Poem by Natasha Trethewey

Miscegenation

Rating: 5.0


In 1965 my parents broke two laws of Mississippi;
they went to Ohio to marry, returned to Mississippi.

They crossed the river into Cincinnati, a city whose name
begins with a sound like sin, the sound of wrong—mis in Mississippi.

A year later they moved to Canada, followed a route the same
as slaves, the train slicing the white glaze of winter, leaving Mississippi.

Faulkner's Joe Christmas was born in winter, like Jesus, given his name
for the day he was left at the orphanage, his race unknown in Mississippi.

My father was reading War and Peace when he gave me my name.
I was born near Easter, 1966, in Mississippi.

When I turned 33 my father said, It's your Jesus year—you're the same
age he was when he died. It was spring, the hills green in Mississippi.

I know more than Joe Christmas did. Natasha is a Russian name—
though I'm not; it means Christmas child, even in Mississippi.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
MAHTAB BANGALEE 20 June 2021

sueprb the poem is

0 0 Reply
Dr Antony Theodore 30 April 2020

When I turned 33 my father said, It's your Jesus year—you're the same age he was when he died. It was spring, the hills green in Mississippi. memories.. and relating your age with that of Jesus. tony

0 0 Reply
Susan Williams 03 March 2016

Is there nothing that this poet can't turn into great literature? I am stunned almost speechless by her talent

16 0 Reply
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