Belly bronzed bikini wasteland of jello buck shots keg stands and nights that last three days jacuzzi swirl of spray tanned glam the gleam of soaked shirts and vomit as the spring breakers bump stumps bury plastic pints in sand littering the boardwalk with pizza grease They lift their middle fingers to the sun flash their cameras tops and gold cards a slick arrhythmia bobbing to the monotone of bass heavy dance anthems Funneling down their throats gallons of distilled cane venerating glass bottles bearing the name of Captain Morgan was a sunburnt cyclone famous for plundering Panama and for cutting clean off any finger with a gold ring on it He could empty a bohio faster than any tsunami could making sport of torturing slaves and puncturing their women He took pleasure in hacking off the limbs of village children while those he shackled were mining for his gold These deeds earned him knighthood from the English crown They say before his death he gutted three of his men so they could guard his treasure in the afterlife and that today he still sails the Atlantic as a phantasm chasing down the descendents of his enemies snuffing them in their dreams by drowning them in rum
Vincent Toro is a Sorta-Rican poet, playwright, and educator living in The Bronx. He holds a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Rutgers University. Toro is a Pushcart Prize nominee, a finalist for the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Prize, recipient of an associate artist residency with the Atlantic Center for the Arts, and a member of The Macondo Writer’s Foundation. His poems have been published in Word is Bond, Rattapallax, Vallum, Bordersenses, Kweli Literary Journal, The Buenos Aires Review, and in the anthologies Coloring Book: An Anthology of Multicultural Poems and Stories, CHORUS and The Waiting Room Reader 2.