Vox Populi
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Tony Gloeggler: What Anyone Knows
Robert’s twin sister calls
to tell me that their mom died.
I offer condolences, ask
when did it happen. Twenty
years ago, I’d see her
as she regularly visited
Robert at the group home
and I learned where Robert
got his sweetness, his warmth.
Recently, we’d drive him out
to Long Island for extended
weekend stays five, six times
a year. I’d sit at my desk, watch
his eyes light up as he blew sloppy
kisses and mumbled he loved her too
on his weekly phone call. Joanne
wants to know what we should do
about Robert, the guy who was pulled
out of the womb after her. Diagnosed
with mental retardation and cerebral
palsy, he spent his early childhood
in Willowbrook hell. She wonders
how much of it he’d understand,
what would happen when he saw
his mom lying in the coffin, whether
he’d kick and yell, throw himself
on the floor when it was time
to leave, would he ever stop
crying. I wonder what anyone
knows about death, but tell her
I think he should participate.
No one knows how much
Robert understands anything
since he can’t tell you himself,
but I feel sure that sitting
in the church with the organ
mourning, the incense rising
as they close the casket
will be something he’ll remember
whenever he goes home
to his family and never sees
his mom again no matter
how many times he asks
and he’ll make some kind
of connection. I tell her
we’ll put on his suit, sit
nearby and help him
with anything he needs,
and he’ll get through
that day the same way
he gets through his life.
Copyright 2022 Tony Gloeggler. First published in Chiron Review. Included in Vox Populi by permission of the author.
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, One, Crab Creek Review. 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’s Julie Suk Award.
Vox Populi 
What a beautiful and tender poem. My nephew is autistic and sobbed through his sister’s wedding. We cannot know what these beautiful human beings are thinking and feeling. We can love them no matter what. ❤️
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Thank you for this beautiful sentiment, Lisa. I wish more people would see difference as a good thing.
Love, M.
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Yes to all the Roberts…
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Yes, to all the Lexes and Roberts and Michaels…
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I’m so glad you offer us Tony Gloeggler poems — I have loved his work for 3 decades — knew him when he didn’t have a book and read his poem at Cornelia Street Café in the Village…
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I’m glad to hear this, Laure-Anne. Tony’s work is a new discovery for me. His narrative poems seem simple, but actually they are layered with an emotional complexity that shows his gentle humanity.
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Thanks Laure-Anne…really appreciate your support, then & now
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How much desperate sweetness in this beautiful poem. It’s sad not to be able to do anything more…
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Thanks, Vengo.
M.
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(my name is Marina)
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Glad to meet you, Marina. Thank you so much for your comments!
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Vengo dal mare, l’età non è importante visto che ogni anno ho un anno di meno.
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Sì, verso la nascita. 🙂
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Sì, veniamo dal mare, ma viviamo nell’aria.
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{However, I never asked your age, I would never have allowed myself this. You’re timeless to me and you’re all the time – it’s not flattery).
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You are a beautiful human being, Marina!
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