"We use maps we did not draw, we see a sea so cross it... We love land so long as we can take it."
In this poem, Brown writes a riddle, with the answer being "white people." In this passage, he is referring to America's colonial history, alluding to "maps we did not draw," and the crossing of seas during the "Age of Discovery," during which there was a surge in colonization. Here, Brown criticizes the colonialist mindset as being fueled by greed and possession.
"Steadfast and awful, my tall father
Hit hard as a hailstorm. He'd leave marks."
Here, the speaker of "Duplex" writes about his relationship with his father. His father is depicted as a violent, volatile and formidable figure, and is compared here to a "hailstorm." This associates his father with physical violence and threat, suggesting he was abusive towards the speaker.
"I want you
To heed that I'm still here
Just beneath your skin and in
Each organ
The way anger dwells in a man
Who studies the history of his nation."
In his poem "The Virus," Brown writes from the perspective of a malicious virus. The virus taunts his host, reminding him of its presence. Interestingly, this is compared to the anger of a "man who studies the history of his nation," which refers to feelings of anger about racial inequality throughout American history. In doing so, Brown suggests that racism itself is a sort of virus, causing frustration and disillusionment.
