In a stunning cycle of persona poems, Daneen Wardrop offers us a
panoramic view of the inner lives of those forgotten among the
violence and strife of the American Civil War: the nurse and the
woman soldier, the child and the draftee, the prostitute, the black
slave, and the Native American soldier. Each one speaks out to be
seen and heard, bearing witness to the mundanity of suffering
experienced by those whose presence was ubiquitous yet erased in
the official histories of the War Between the States. Cyclorama
takes its name from the theater-sized, in-the-round oil paintings
popular in the late nineteenth century, and with each poem, Wardrop
adds a panel to her expansive, engrossing portrait of the bloodshed
and tears, the tedium and fear experienced by the Civil War living
and the dying. With pathos and lyric force, she brings sharply into
focus perspectives on an unfathomable experience we thought we
already knew and understood. from "Women's Sanitary Corps" Sister,
I link arms with you as we enter this log-steepled tent, white on
the outside, but on the inside the deep maroon of thick-spackled,
internal things. How can it be so simple here? Bed, man-- bed,
man-- where the pain leaves no room for anything else. My mouth is
dry. No, stay with me, these sheet-smoothed boys need us with their
nocturnal eyes, not predatory but grieving, as good animals the
body, not ready, not able to be ready. La, where did they put their
good body?
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