Bewitched
by Blanche Saffron Kabengele
for Mildred Melinda (Cummings) Saffron
1934-2004
Momma knew something about loving a Voodoo Man.
Must be voodoo!
Was what Momma who was Geeche would say
If she was still alive but, she ain’t!
She who couldn’t stand to have a broom touch her if you, somebody, anybody was sweeping the flo’ her way. Wood scratched splinter under your fingernail were!
And if any of her hair thick and black found residence in a comb had to be char-burned, or the birds might get ‘em and use ‘em for their nest giving you the worst headache you never had, was what Momma would say!
Like that man round the corner everybody said wasn’t right in the head the way he ran instead of walked feet moving before either would meet the ground, his fingers splayed like gloves laid out dishonorably on the floor.
That woman made him that way put some of her monthly in his food because
she wanted him didn’t care how she got him. Yes, she did him that way,” Momma
would say.
What you know about it?
The way a man could call his woman where only dogs could hear making her private parts itch like lemon juice running down her legs, beckoning away at her resolve.
Had to be Voodoo, was what Momma would say.
Sure, enough anybody could see this kinda love Momma would have called voodoo, if she was still alive but she ain’t!
Blanche Saffron Kabengele studied Intellectual History and holds a PhD in Educational Studies from the University of Cincinnati. She is the author of Quiet as It’s Kept, Me Too, and Other Poetic Expressions of Life, Xlibris Publishers and Conjugal Relationships of Africans and African Americans: A Socio-Cultural Analysis, The Edwin Mellen Press. Her poems have appeared in Eastfork – A Journal of the Arts, For a Better World, Verse-Virtual, W-POESIS, and The Rockford Writers Guild. Blanche is retired and lives in Cincinnati with her husband Peter, enjoying travelling and writing poetry.
Editor’s Note: Due to its formatting, this poem is best viewed on a wider screen.