Julie Allyn Johnson

and now, a few words from our sponsor
 
these houses are never the same
but the vibe, the intrigue, the longing sure is
tonight I find myself encased in a sophisticated
40s new york city ambience
though a few rubes & rustics pocket narrow hallways
wide-eyed and ruminating easily identifiable
appearing in all the wrong places
 
an Olympic-sized pool corrals the entire 2nd floor
I see an oak-paneled bottom through a horde
of truncated legs, naked bodies splashing about
drinks in hand, voices that irk & aggravate
 
floor-boards ripped open at irregular intervals
how does the water keep from draining, I wonder --
but this is a dream
nighttime reveries operate however they wish
 
how is it that an old house
in the country    middle of freakin’ nowhere
has an Olympic-sized swimming pool
on the 2nd floor, no less…
 
I’ll slumber in silence, blind to an antipode sun
covers cast aside south of midnight, what do I care
dream your own dreams, scramble the backroads
stitching together the rivers, summits & valleys
I’ll seek a mosaic of stardust, its gentle swirl of grooves
 
quilted comfort
 
layered amulets
 
nested charms

Julie Allyn Johnson is a sawyer's daughter from the American Midwest. She prefers black licorice over red, loves Tootsie Rolls, and digs Hot Tamales—practically the perfect candy. Her current obsession is tackling the rough and tumble sport of quilting and the accumulation of fabric. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Julie’s poetry can be found in various journals including Star*Line, The Briar Cliff Review and Granfalloon.