Song of Slaves in the Desert - Alan Cheuse [129]
GEOGRAPHICAL RHYMES TO BE REPEATED BY THE PUPIL
The world is round, and like a ball
Seems swinging in the air,
A sky extends around it all,
And stars are shining there.
Water and land upon the face
Of this round world we see,
The land is man’s safe dwelling place,
But ships sail on the sea.
Two mighty continents there are,
And many islands too,
And mountains, hills, and valleys there,
With level plains we view.
The oceans, like the broad blue sky,
Extend around the sphere,
While seas, and lakes, and rivers, lie
Unfolded, bright, and clear.
Around the earth on every side
Where hills and plains are spread,
The various tribes of men abide
White, black, and copper red.
And animals and plants there be
Of various name and form,
And in the bosom of the sea
All sorts of fishes swarm.
And now geography doth tell,
Of these full many a story,
And if you learn your lessons well,
I’ll set them all before you.
Ball…air…all…there…She loved the sound of the rhymes…sky…sphere…lie…clear…
If there was any moment in her early life when she first thought about walking away, running, it must have been here. Mark it!
Chapter Fifty-four
________________________
A Visitor (2)
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me…
Up in my room that night I tried to calm myself by reading, but I could find little distraction in Poe, my eyes running over one stanza over and over. Here I was, when the knock came at my door, saying to myself, And whom might this be? The Raven?
Liza stood at the door, alone, a thin cotton wrap flowing from her shoulders, dressed for settling in for the night in the big house, ready to help her mistress should some distress arise. She held a candle, her eyes catching the reflection of the flame, and that same flame guttering in the wake of our passage from the door—I drew her in and closed it immediately behind us—to the bed.
“Massa,” she said, setting the candle-holder down on the night-table.
“Please,” I said.
“Massa Nate,” she said, lowering her head toward me in a parody of submission.
“Stop it,” I said, touching a finger to her chin. Her skin felt so smooth and cool, I couldn’t help but follow with my hand.
The lines of her—neck, throat, chest, her breasts—her gown fell away—she slipped her arms through the sleeves—
I stood a moment, beginning to shed my own clothes.
Breath of her—sweet oil, mint—hair of gardenia—breasts oiled with nutmeg and tincture of lemon—staircase of her ribs, full sweet belly—peeking into the navel that connected her to Africa and all the generations past, who loved each other, struggled with and fought with and sold each other—kissed my way down the smooth slope of her abdomen.
“Oh, Nate,” she said, in a sweet voice, the kind you might use to speak to a loving child in a story, “come to me now.”
The dark subsides into more dark. Night sounds again from outside the window, seeming now more familiar than exotic, more welcoming than lonely. You horses in the barn, nickering to each other in the sleeps you take alone, oh, you doves nestled together and cooing in dove-dreams in the rafters of the barns, oh, owls in the woods and mice in your dens, oh, alligators loving alligators in alligator-love out in the slimy mossy depths of the swamp waters, oh, all you captives in the cabins dreaming of freedom in the sleep of your enslavement, I take you in my arms because my reach has now so been increased I can hold so much more of the world!
“Nate?”
Liza’s whisper, soft almost as a voice in a dream.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes,” I said, “I am. Never been more awake, in this way.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“I am sorry.”
“I must go.”
“No, no, stay a while.”
“It’s not