 Her voice rings an octave higher, a rare pitch in this library of men. She forgot the naked shame of Eve. The beloved belts out the body electric before we controlled the motion of charged particles with the switch. She sings the beauty of blackness of women of sex before we have a chance to chain dark flesh, declaring feminine damned and scorn erotic desire. So I return to the beloved's unfettered womanish voice and I join her chorus.