名人诗歌|The Lullaby of History

I put the bookmark in the page after Lincoln's

silence during the 1860 campaign， after no one

in the Gulf^{1 States cast a single vote for him，}

then march off to the car， carseat in tow， drive on

cruise， mainly， to the site in Durham where Sherman

coaxed^{2 the Southern general-Johnston-}

to submit twice， sign twice. The six hundred thousand

dead were like the shucks inside the reconstructed

bed， the smoke the chimney slewed^{3， the clayish mud.}

In the museum， name-tagged women watch our daughter，

four months here， while we investigate the flags

with gunshot holes， the uniforms with gunshot holes，

the shells of the Union Army with three rings， the shells

of the Confederate's with two. We take our daughter

to the filmstrip， where she sleeps through

the stills of uniformed corpses^{4 in ditches and cries}

at war's end， one flag for all these states. We ride，

strapped^{5， to the Greek restaurant known for its sauces}

and lamb， stroll inside the tobacco warehouse^{6 transformed}

into a mall， each glass pane^{7 so large a truck}

could drive through and pick up brightleaf to ship.

They say this section profited when South met North

and troops took in the smoke of this leaf， spreading

by word of mouth the flavor， until the profits

were so large owners began to donate. In the antique store

we happen upon a map my father might love

of Ireland before pision， just as it appeared

when he was born， the north a section， not another country，

Ulster's counties awash in the orange the mapmakers

stained it. But we can't commit to buy for this price，

or prevent our daughter from falling asleep as we discuss

facts the map makes clear： battles marked in bold，

our side losing again and again， the Flight of the Earls，

Vinegar Hill， the Battle of the Boyne， and we donate

a moment during the drive home to feel

the weight of the centuries' dead， almost cry for all

those men who gave their skin to the ground so young，

so young brought their lips to earth and let their mouths

cave in， accept the soil as their voice. We did not wake

our girl through this. Let her sleep， we said.