Myth by Natasha Trethewey   Natasha’s Trethewey’s poem “Myth” astonished me the first time I read it in her book Native Guard—not just for its cautious intimacy or sense of form, but because I had initially read it so casually I didn’t register that the poem had reversed itself until I came to the very last line. My frustration with my capabilities as a reader soon yielded to pleasure as I compared the lines backwards from the asterisk at the poem’s center, where the poem becomes a palindrome writ large, underscoring the repeating cycle of the speaker’s grief. The turn at the center of the poem functions as a mirror—both in terms of form and content. The title “Myth” applies most directly to the…