Atoning for the Neoliberal in All or rahm emanuel as the Chicken on Kapparot

written on the eve & day of Yom Kippur, September 22–23, 2015

 

Do you call that a fast, a day when the Lord is favorable? No, this is the fast I desire: To unlock the fetters of wickedness, and untie the cords of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free.

Isaiah 58: 5-6

 

you are the first jewish mayor of Chicago

but have not lit one yahrzeit candle

for people murdered by the police.

 

you vacation in montana with the governor,

bring your family to Chile on a whim

& never worry about crossing borders

or encountering their patrolmen

or the rent upon return.

 

your grandparents sought refuge here.

escaping those trying to end them.

they came, worked, learned, created

a life that enabled your parents to raise you

in the suburbs: the immigrant face of the american dream.

 

you dismantle the same system from which your family benefited:

union pay, livable wages, park space safe enough to play outside

arts funding to take ballet, a decent well-rounded public education.

 

the same ladder your family climbed

you kick the rungs from.

 

if the schools, housing, health care

trauma centers & corners that cause trauma

are fair across this flat, segregated land—

then eat today. every day there is a harvest

on the carcass of the city for sale. the satiated

carve at a distance, plan, map & redistrict

with careless indifference. how many times

have you been to Kenwood, Woodlawn

North Lawndale. what are the names of the people

you know there. what homes have you sat in.

 

how can you fast

this week, when food

was refused by grandmothers

& educators & organizers

in your backyard, in the front

lawn of a school Chief Keef attended

in a neighborhood you militarize;

more guns & police your solution

to poverty or an extermination strategy.

 

how can you fast

when you couldn’t stand

in the same room with

those on hunger strike.

in a public forum

you don’t listen.

you are the antithetical

Studs Terkel

 

this is not the city he loved

to listen to, not the city

your grandparents were promised

 

where is your apology

for sending so many jobs elsewhere

for privileging your children’s future

& pillaging others’

 

what do you know of labor

& no savings account & counting

pennies for a pass, for permission to move

or see a movie or museum in this city

of no access & grand canyons of inequity.

 

your middle name is Israel

it’s come to mean apartheid

in the city, you are mayor

& in Palestine, the city

your family colonized.

 

there is no safety

             said my G-d

for the wicked19

for the divvier of cities

for the divider of nations

for the ignorer of horror

for the builder of walls

 

atone for the smug assuredness

atone for the maintenance of two cities

             stratified & unrecognizable to the other

atone for the bounty of the north side

             the scarcity of the south

             the want of the west

atone for the erasure of the public

             school, space, housing, parking

atone for the centrism, the move right

             the kowtow to corporations

atone for the inconceivable income disparity

             between those funding your campaign

             & those over whom you reign

atone for the city’s change

             its whitewash & removable

             workers who used to make it

             work by working

             in jobs with pensions

             & benefits

atone for the benefits we have

             by merely being white

             on the north side of the city

             country where that is enough

             to make you safe & not think

             about driving a car or going

             for a jog or walk outside

atone for the rite to the city

             that’s for some, not for all

             not for real

 

israel means may G-d prevail

& we pray that’s real, for real

                                                                 amen