Welcome to Poetically Yours. Poetically Yours showcases poems written by northern Illinois poets but occasionally out-of-state poets submit their works. Today's poet is Blanche Kabengele.
Kabengele grew up in the West End community of Cincinnati, Ohio.
She holds a doctorate from the University of Cincinnati’s College of Education, Criminal Justice and Human Service. Kabengele is also the author of two books, "Conjugal Relationships of Africans and African Americans: A Sociocultural Analysis," and "Quiet as it’s Kept, Me too, and other Poetic Expressions of Life!"
Her poetry has been published in various poetry journals, such as Verse-Virtual, The Rockford Writer’s Guild, The Prose Poem, W-Poesis, East Fork Journal, Willawaw, and For a Better World.
Kabengele and husband Peter, both retired, enjoy travelling the world. You can email her at blkabengele@gmail.com
Kabengele said she chose this poem as it demonstrates how affairs between strangers can escalate from calm to calamity within a matter of seconds.
a boy a car a pink and white gingham dress
making friends sticking close to clothes and skin, it was a sweat welcoming kind of day, damn,
seemed for the fun of it the temperature rose to a ridiculous height, testing the fate of renters owning only one air conditioner, when
a girl a teenage girl walking across the last stand of Central Street’s storefront bars, down what space I-75 left Cutter, to retain being called a street, onto Clark then Ezzard Charles and home resolved better save the bus fare wore
a pink and white gingham dress, pretty in its pinkness, its whiteness, its’ gingham high—ness with a belt circling the equator of a teenager’s waist, saw
a car, wasn’t sure if it was a Chevrolet, Ford, or Chrysler, or its color came so fast round a corner colliding in the same space in time with a boy, putting an unfortunate beginning to an unfortunate ending. perhaps,
car and boy both believed they would never even touch, no chance for impolite conversation, crashed
this boy age as was his name unknown two fingers of the left-hand splayed crushed onion paper thin leaked blood as red as fast cars have an aptitude toward being redleapt like popcorn popping like lips puckering up and out of the next hot relationship landed in the arms of a girl in as much shock as he was, held him to keep him safe, as he fought to escape her pinkish embrace, now,
car gone. boy gone. girl all alone, passing cars and other walkers walking reflected on their innocence of the boy and a car, as she was as well unaware why everyone now stared at the back of her pink and white gingham dress.
