Vernon Sheffield in Emporia

The Boy in the Bell Jar

I met Vernon one day—

In the old Science Building

Going up the staircase

It was my Ritual—

To view the Fetus Boy

In the display cabinet

There he was asleep—

In his Jar of Formaldehyde

But his eyes were open

Looking at me—

From outta History

For how many years?

I would stand there—

Trying to talk with him

Sharing my thoughts

Long before I read—

Sylvia Plath’s “Bell Jar”

The kid read my beads

Vernon Sheffield

Vernon’s office was—

On the same floor next

To the Boy in Jar

He noticed me—

Maybe felt sorry for me

Took me under his wing

He taught Music then—

Mathematics when the

Department changed

Music for him should—

Be taught only by men

He was tres Misogynist

Why I don’t know—

But he enjoyed young

Men very much instead

And so he ended up—

Teaching Mathematics

Instead there at KSTC

Emporia Evenings

We went for long walks—

In the long summer evenings

Emporia different back then

The Eisenhower Fifties—

So very calm and naïve

After the Second World War

My parents were divorced—

Vernon became my guide

My gay Fairy Godmother

I was like Judy Garland—

Stuck there in Kansas & he

Was Glenda my Good Witch

He lived west of campus—

In a small apartment with

A sleek black grand piano

He’d play Mozart for me—

Minuets and lovely ditties

He’d make up in his mind

Gothic Emporia

There’s nothing more—

Gothic than Emporia

During the winter

The tall stark Elms—

Brooding up & down

The dismal streets

My gothic house—

On Constitution was

Really no different

Inherited from my—

Gone grandparents

Now reclusive mine

The sleek art deco—

Senate Apartments

Now a Frat House

The big homes—

Once historic now

A ghetto slum

Sunken Garden

The Fountain—

Once a rendezvous

For illicit moments

Tennessee Williams—

Summer and Smoke

Lonely interludes

Young male students—

Lonely & far from home

Blowjobs in the bushes

During the summer—

A Garden of Eden for

Me down on my knees

During winter though—

Slim Pickings with stark

Plumb Hall looking grim

That’s when my mentor—

Vernon Sheffield played

Piano sonatas for me