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41 • MEETiNG EuLAuLAH, HOWArD uNivErSiTy I heard her sing— notes as wings, butterfly or bird, the sound of flowers if we could hear the petals’ work— & in my head, I’m on a bus to St. Louis, wondering what Grandma will think of my Eulaulah. Open your mouth, Eulaulah says, let your own notes spill, but I am pleased with the piano: the give of the bench, the keys’ gap-toothed smile, a gospel that sings me whole. …& she thinks my voice 42 • could rouse a crowd, ring above this song? ...

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