Shucking Peas, and: Off, Into Eternity

she would shuck peas from the gardensitting on the front porch                    her skirthiked up above her brown                    kneeBy this time she was over                    ninetya spool of silver braided                    into hercoal-black hair. Her fingers                    workedbusily as she told me her                    stories; of having been born in 1870after the war, when in plain view                    everywherewas the awesome destructionthat had been done to her nation.                    Menwith no feet, hands, faces                    torn;they joined the wagon trainwhen she was nine, traveling                    overlandfrom Georgia to Oklahoma,as she shucked she said:

"The men finally had to shootat some Indians who were always                    stealingthe horses, guns, flour,                    whiskey."Once a rattlesnake announced                    itselfupon a rock wall she was building.She grabbed it by the tail                    snappingand breaking its neck in a                    singlebullwhip motion. She was strong.She weighed 175 and carried                    washpansweighing fifty pounds from floorto counter as if it were nothing.                    She likedtelling me the old storiesof Jesse James and Dillinger                    Outlawswho had won the people's                    hearts. Of course, she'd always been poor.Who wouldn't be with a no-good                    drunkfor a husband who'd piss awaya week's pay on Friday night at                    the bar?

Off, Into Eternity

Of course you knew that Ishmael was a school teacher,Broke and suffering no interest for anything on land.Thus, the grand eloquence, but isn't it odd, you'llAgree, that nary a woman is mentioned but in passing.Did you realize Ahab was an Egyptian? Naturally, everyoneKnows that he had a wood stump for a leg, chomped offBy the great leviathan, Moby Dick. It's made perfectlyEvident that Ahab didn't give a seagull's screech for hisSupposed mission: above all, the profitable searching out &Slaying, particularly the sperm whale in order to fillEvery nook and cranny below deck with precious drums filledTo the brim with whale sperm, the streetlight's oil,Not to mention the flexing bones that perfectly bell-shapedCorsets, being the fashion of Society's Belles. Queequeg,The harpooner—think of it—sold shrunken heads aroundTown. And let us remember: Men, complete strangers, oftenShared beds. It was the custom. But what did you think whenIshmael said of Queequeg, "I found his arm thrown aroundMe in the most loving and affectionate manner. You'd almostThought I'd been his wife. There is no place like a bed forConfidential disclosures between friends. Thus, then, in ourHearts honeymoon lay I and Queequeg—a cozy loving pair."Did it make you laugh that Ishmael was a Presbyterian Christian, And Queequeg a Pagan from Hokovoko, not down on any map?And the Pequod, yes, everyone's shipped on the Pequod.Our Ishmael, "for a whale ship was my Yale and my Harvard."And the ridiculous names, Starbuck Native of NantucketAnd a Quaker by descent. And the pencil named Stubb,Second mate, a Cape Cod man. One never has to tell you,Below decks, there was a secret: the Islamic crewSequestered for the sole purpose of avenging Ahab's,How would you say, monomaniacal hatred for what, of courseIs, the symbolic Great White of Uncontrollable Nature.So one has read the lines: "Ahab stood before them withA crucifixion in his face," or "Ahab's unalterable mold:like Cellini's cast Perseus." Then, as you say, The voyagebegun, enter the Cetology of Whales: Sperm, Right, Fin Back,Hump Back, Sulphur Bottom. Lay bare every board of the ship,And you still fly to Those Sentences, "Over DescartianVortices, you hover." And Passion fills your breastWhen Ahab, forgoing sleep, food, sanity, cries, "DeathTo Moby Dick!" And you are off, one agrees, into eternity.