Issue > Poetry
Vincent Toro

Vincent Toro

Vincent Toro has an MFA from Rutgers University. He is a Poets House Emerging Poets Fellow and a NYFA Fellow in Poetry. His poems have been published in Kweli, The Buenos Aires Review, The Acentos Review, and Codex. He lives and teaches in The Bronx with his wife, writer and scholar Dr. Grisel Acosta. This summer they are both writers in residence at Can Serrat artist retreat in El Bruc, Spain.

Alzheimer's Suite (for Sammy)

Still dons his guayabera at church. Still scuttles
across rooms reliving the soccer matches of his youth
in Barranquilla. Still hears his mother declaring, "In this house
we are ruled by only education and God." Still sings his favorite
cumbias as he waters the garden. Still mourns his great
aunt killed by her alcoholic husband. Still giggles
with his wife as they watch Cantinflas confound
his foe with nonsense discourse. Still holds a grudge
against the winter wind of Lake Michigan. Still prays
at every meal, promising to turn its energy
into love. Still smitten with the scent of aguacate, the taste
of butter pecan. Still hides for his grandchildren to seek him.

Still          his                     church           scuttles
           rooms r   ing                                     his youth
          a   quill  .   Still he       is   other   cl  ing   his house
               led by                       an                  ill          his favorite
cumbias a                         garden                  urn     is
         killed by       alcohol                     . Still giggles
With         wife     he             Can                confound
his                  nonsense     course.   Still  
               the winter wind                           an        ill prays
at every meal,            sing to turn
into                   smitten                                aguacate,    he  
                      can   till              his               children      see   him.

Still                                                         scuttles
           rooms      in                                         s   outh
         a   quill      Still                  other       ing    his   use
                                                                      ill            s   a   rite
      bias                               a den                
       killed by         a co ol                       Still giggles
                    if      he             Can                con    
                       nonsense             .   Still  
                       inter wind                                        ill  rays
At eve                        sing to          
                         smit e                                 agua          
                       an    ill                                  chi  d e       s      him.

                 ill      ill                            
         illed                                                   ill
                                                  .  Still  
                               ill                                                         .




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