Elegy for Jim Just Jim

Vincent Toro

“If I have a gift to offer in return, It is always a poem.”

-James Anderson (6/20/1975-10/8/1996)

You as the grass growing wings that are you, as halogen 
lamp dimming in the window of a 5th floor walk up,
as wise epitaph wedged in white marble, as eloquent 
tourniquet, as an egg and cheese sandwich in a Turnpike 
diner. You as rich mendicant in a green button down

        Are you leaving? Yep. Where are you going? Sisters.

sweater. You as starving alley cat brushing bare heels, as bidi 
trapped in your chapped lemon peel lips, as Birkenstocks
smearing monochrome Twomblys across kitchen floors,
as leather coat you gave to a homeless man freezing 
on Manhattan sidewalks. You as emperor of ice cream

 
        Are you leaving? Yep. Where are you going? Sisters.

and green tea. You as the hard words we flee 
like airborne toxins, as a yellow jacket self-extracting 
its stinger, as broken bones and scratched corneas,
as sarcophagus of faded album covers and rusty woks.
You as general in the war on insincerity. You as canvas

        Are you leaving? Yep. Where are you going? Sisters.

of scabs I wear around my wrist, as a plastic ash tray, 
as an Andean mountain made of secondhand books,
as illusory deer dodging your ’88 Mazda, as lead zephyr, 
as tragic epilogue, as omitted poet. You as the patron 
saint of cracked spirits and cracked dashboards. You as Jim

        Are you leaving? Yep. Where are you going? Sisters.
        Are you leaving? Yep. Where are you going? Sisters.
        Are you leaving? Yep. Where are you going? Sisters.

Just Jim

"I am very excited to submit my work to Duende. As a Puerto Rican poet I am eager to support publications that are committed to presenting work by people of color and underrepresented groups."

Vincent Toro is a poet and playwright currently living and teaching in the Bronx. He received his MFA from Rutgers University.