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Here is North Gulfport—
its liquor stores and car washes,

She’s always been a tomboy, Mama Vic says, Mouthy.
Runnin’ the roads. Not comin’ home, and as she speaks

The water clock makes into a measure
a flow so continuous none can say

Once, I was a daughter of this place:
daughter of Gwen, granddaughter
of Leretta, great of Eugenia McGee.

Somewhere in the post-Katrina wreckage and disarray of my grandmother’s house, there is a photograph of my brother Joe and me, our arms around each other’s shoulders. We are at a long-gone nightclub in Gulfport, the Terrace Lounge, standing...

On her wedding day, a bride should slip a good penny into her shoe
to ensure luck and wealth during the life of her marriage.

We’re at the Potts Mountain Shooting Range
on a hot day in March, blowing ammo,

I wanted to say I have come home
to bear witness, to read the sign
emblazoned on the church marquee—

This is Max Rameau seizing the moment: hunting down foreclosed houses left idle by the banks, or by the city, so that he can take them over. Rameau contends that everyone, no matter what, deserves a home, and he considers the surplus of...

This week they are painting
the North Gulfport water tower.