by Kellen Gaither
We’re lost we have no home outsiders wherever we go. America thinks we’re too African Africa thinks we’re too American. Where do we go? To our ghetto inner cities safe, familiar, cultured our corner store, our mom-and-pop shops. The buildings are run down and filled with graffiti but they were ours barbeques in the middle of the potholed roads. The Wobble brings the neighborhood together and the block party begins but not for long. The corner store is replaced by an art gallery our beautiful graffiti stripped from the walls of our buildings and changed into bougie apartments that we can’t afford potholes only filled when people much whiter and much richer come around police called when the block party reaches 5 people the neighbors pushed out of their own hood becoming lost once again.
Kellen Gaither – 2021 Featured Poet – is a junior from Cincinnati, Ohio. She is a psychology major with a minor in gender, sexuality, and women’s studies who is also working on her prerequisites for occupational therapy. Beautiful Black Boy, Businessman, Cantu Bantu, I Can Feel It, Not Allowed to Hurt, The Talk