LeConté Dill, honorable mention prizewinner in the 10th annual Zócalo Poetry Prize. Photo by Nicole Mondestin Photography.
And maybe the feds did supply the hood with fireworks
And maybe the fireworks will scare the gentrifiers away
And maybe the gentrifiers will leave the hood
And maybe I’m a gentrifier
And maybe I hate to admit that
And maybe I’m not scared of fireworks
And maybe I will leave the hood for another hood
And maybe the hood be home
And maybe I don’t know where exactly is home
And maybe home is a mother
And maybe home has birds of paradise
And maybe home has a porch out front and a yard out back
And maybe home is a daughter
And maybe home is a cooing
And maybe home is a stoop out front and a walk-up
And maybe home is a fireworks show at 1am
And maybe a poem is a home