j o h n  r o s

poems by jan brodeur, a fellow vsc staff member. 2006
jan shuffles silently though her faint sigh can be heard for miles. her light is bright as a full moon, when she is too, moving from side to side in flip-flops because they promote good feelings, or so she was told by a friend in maine. as jan now leaves us, soon to be none, i wonder what would have been without these connections, these wonderful people who helped me be. in the shadow of johnson vermont we will always know we had each other — and in the shadow of jan, i silently dance chest to chest, in breath and life.

now that my kids have grown i find myself with a strange and irrational impulse to dress my friends.

dressing john
letting down the arms
taking in the cups
we want striking — not ludicrous
and a skirt?
it must hang just so…
with room to writhe.
or perhaps tux trows* and loafers
italian — not penny
now this
is something to write home about.
the next postage stamp
black and white panache
red lips and chest hair.
^*trousers

kitchen-caged johnny
below your brows
shafts of dark light
scan the crowd
brimming with lust and disdain
the stallion in your chest
stomps
tall dark and curious
i can smell the sex you want to have
behind the soup bowls
you are dietrich and castro handcuffed together
in a hot tub
if you were a country the national costume would be
bandana, bustier and tuxedo
honey, you are one long loose line
longing to be spoken.