Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Justice is a banana peel


I’ve never laid a hand on a word
like banana slips


until the day I lined the streets of Berlin
like a bed of roses and hung 


a piñata of a big nosed Jew,
you know the kind that rule the world 


and take your money. It was like 
the running of the bull, only the Jew


didn’t move. It was stuffed with Kinder 
chocolate and Lindt imported 


from the pocket of my grandfather’s
father who I met only through 


the hearty laugh he buried
in the deep pockets of my grandfathers 


tears that night, or was it day, 


when they dragged him 
to the corner of Bialystok 


and bad luck, as if luck was 
an iron dome, waiting to be born.


I left piñata clubs in 
umbrella stands in the lobby 


of every building on the 
Ku’damm but it wasn’t 


1943. It was today on
the Champs Elysee 


and Piccadilly Gardens
and the Tree of life synagogue 
named for its irony. 


I pick up my megaphone and yell
across your college campuses decorated 


with swastikas you can’t erase.
“Take your boycotts, your ovens, 


your rivers and your seas,
take all the places 


you want me to leave” before I 
find a cure for the cancer 
you breed.



November 6, 2019

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