Artist Statement
This poem is included in my poetry full-length debut, The Rent Eats First. The book focuses on my experience as a housing justice lawyer, situating that experience within the privileges and inequities endemic to American capitalism. As a poet and public interest lawyer, two of the things I am most passionate about in the world are creative writing and housing justice. So combining the two in The Rent Eats First was truly a labor of love.
In a lot of ways, writing poems helps me be a better lawyer. Writing poetry requires a sort of linguistic precision which really helps with legal writing. Plus, I don’t think we talk enough about how creativity is a really important skill for lawyers, especially while we’re trying to think of new ways to fight entrenched systems. In my career, I’ve worked closely with tenant associations, renters facing eviction, homeowners facing foreclosure, and grassroots organizations fighting for better policy. Poetry encourages empathy and out-of-the-box thinking, which has really helped with those efforts.
. . . after a loss in a Midwest courthouse
The problem with law
is that it’s made of words,
and the problem with words
is that they make everything dull,
though the bluntest blades
are especially brutal.
The weapons we most fear
are those best camouflaged —
see, e.g., sniper rifle, dirty bomb,
or in the courtroom, the term
for “eviction” draped in its
Latin roots. The casual banter
between expensive men. How the sheriff
maintains calm by simply saying
please and never actually gesturing
to the revolver he keeps loaded
and strapped to his hip,
should some ousted body grow so angry
she’s losing her home
that the market’s visible hands
decide the only address left
is her own stone-carved name.
There’s no crying in court. Every desperate
eye is a man-made desert. Cursing the judge
who just took your home away is a jailable
offense. Lying is the worst offense of all.
Though the oath for witnesses doesn’t mention G-d
anymore, you can tell He’s still in the room
and that His politics haven’t changed much.
Maybe that fear is what keeps the courtroom
calm. How the judge reaps rented land
with the most violent plowshare.
How the sheriff loads his pleasantries
with bullets. Our sterile legalisms and their boring
blades. Our Founding Documents and the chain-linked hands
that forged their parchment.
The US Supreme Court is obsessed
with the Magna Carta, habitually citing
the 13th Century British legal document
as a positive influence over American law,
which seems in poor taste, not only because
it excludes Jews, Muslims, and women
from its protections, but also because it established
the exact legal system our founders revolted against.
Then again, as a matter of craft, the document is
perfect, and what’s a little historical erasure
in the face of such gorgeous calligraphy
drafted in deep purple-blue ink
(that looks nothing like blood
once it’s left the body)?
Today, I’m representing a veteran
facing eviction in the heart
of the Midwest, which means
all the judges sound like their moms
were Frances McDormand in Fargo.
And this is how dull knives become
seen as safe.
Instead of snarling
It’s 14 degrees
and your family will be out
on the street,
the judge is soft-spoken, courteous, and encouraging
Oh ya. I’m real sorry, Miss,
but you’re gonna have to find a place to live. I’m sure it’ll be ok though. You’ll just
bundle right up and go somewhere new
And a look comes over her like she knows she’ll have to triage her own family.
But the only thing left to say is
Your Honor,
Thank you.
From The Rent Eats First Copyright © 2024 by Eric Sirota. Courtesy of Button Publishing Inc.
About the Author
Tags
Comments
3 thoughts on “Poem: …after a loss in a Midwest courthouse”
Leave a Reply
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
From California, where it isn’t 14°, but when you’re in it 24/7, it doesn’t really feel anything but +/- Miserable:
F√¢¥;#g Bravo!!!
For those of us who try to save renters from “exaggerated reasons” for eviction, this poem gets to the heart of the falsehood that landlords care about their renters and treat them like decent human beings. Bravo!
I love this, Thank you.