She Awakens in a Town by the Sea
--Terry Blackhawk 

The street, milling all night. Old lace —
faces peeking out into drifts of blossoms, 

drifts of bloom. Tell me about yourself, Sweetie.
Everything you say may be held against you. 

Drifts of blossoms, studies of bloom.
Or boas. Boas and other entanglements. 

The auditions go on regardless.
Mammatus, Mami Wata — clouds 

begin to break. When she steps outside,
a soprano’s song saturates the air. 

Shards of shells on the walk beneath her
feet. Gardens tuning up in a minor 

key. Before their petals fall away, she will lift
a shattered glass. 

A gull coasts over the jetty. Drifts
of blossoms, curtains of bloom.