Two Poems by Tony Gloeggler

REMINDERS

I didn’t guess the 12 year old
girl in the novel I’m reading
would get chronic kidney disease,
didn’t expect it would remind me
too often of the endless medical
appointments, bad news turning
worse, strict diet, limited liquid
intake, weighing like penance,
the drudgery of dialysis, three days
a week for three and a half hours
a session, the light headedness,
cramping. At least my brother
offered me a kidney, tested
as a perfect match. We went
into the hospital that summer,
his teacher-wife taking care
of their 2 young kids. My father,
already dead, didn’t have to track
down my wayward mother, fail
to convince her to be a donor.
When the girl’s condition
plummeted, they ended up
using a recently car-wrecked
stranger for the transplant.
The girl contracted pneumonia
a day after, died while I sat
stunned in my rocking chair,
the reading lamp burning,
too shaken to try and sleep.

*

SPECIAL NEEDS

One of my facebook friends
has put up one of those post
and paste things about special
needs kids, that they’re not
weird or odd and just want
to be accepted. He’s asking
me to share the statement
and I’m thinking he never
hung out with Jesse or Larry.
One’s autistic and I spend
a weekend a month with him
in Vermont. The other’s down
syndrome, my favorite guy
at the residence since day one.
They both love ripping things.
One goes to school wearing
a sweater, winter coat, comes
home on the school bus, his balls
semi-secure in a knotted dish rag,
a bath towel half draped over
his shoulders, shoes thrown
out the window. The other hums
happily in his room, shreds books,
cooking magazines. One pirouettes
like a chunky ballerina every half
block or so, refuses to ever wear
socks, punches himself under
his left eye when he’s pissed off.
This one time actually missing
his spot and hitting himself
right in the eye while I couldn’t
stop laughing at the shock
his face showed. The other
tosses rocks in lakes, little leaps
of joy when the stone plops
into the water. Both repeat
phrases endlessly. One bites
his arm when frustrated. Both
love pizza and French fries.
Neither really gives a fuck
what anyone thinks about them
as long as they’re treated well
by the people around them,
just don’t get in the way
of their routines. One barely
acknowledges the existence
of strangers. One loves hugs,
snuggling, while I need to ask
the other for hello, goodbye
squeezes. He’ll repeat sque-ee-eze,
lightly hold me for less than ten
seconds. Both laugh boundlessly.
Not exactly sure why, but I always
feel good around these two, find it
fascinating and fun, like my day’s
instantly injected with a dose
of happiness, glad to help them
do any of the things they love.

*

Tony Gloeggler is a life-long resident of NYC and managed group homes for the mentally challenged for over 40 years. His work has appeared in Rattle, New Ohio Review, Vox Populi, Gargoyle. His most recent book, What Kind Of Man with NYQ Books, was a finalist for the 2021 Paterson Poetry Prize and long listed for Jacar Press’ Julie Suk Award.