--for Allen br br Here, on the farthest point of the peninsula br The winter storm br Off the Atlantic shook the schoolhouse. br Mrs. Whitimore, dying br Of tuberculosis, said it would be after dark br Before the snowplow and bus would reach us. br br She read to us from Melville. br br How in an almost calamitous moment br Of sea hunting br Some men in an open boat suddenly found themselves br At the still and protected center br Of a great herd of whales br Where all the females floated on their sides br While their young nursed there. The cold frightened whalers br Just stared into what they allowed br Was the ecstatic lapidary pond of a nursing cow's br One visible eyeball. br And they were at peace with themselves. br br Today I listened to a woman say br That Melville might br Be taught in the next decade. Another woman asked, "And why not?" br The first responded, "Because there are br No women in his one novel." br br And Mrs. Whitimore was now reading from the Psalms. br Coughing into her handkerchief. Snow above the windows. br There was a blue light on her face, breasts and arms. br Sometimes a whole civilization can be dying br Peacefully in one young woman, in a small heated room br With thirty children br Rapt, confident and listening to the pure br God rendering voice of a storm.