Burying Caesar in Chicago

Burying Caesar in Chicago

by Lew Rosenbaum

“I have come to bury Caesar

Julius Caesar

Julius Caesar

Not to praise him.”

So spoke Mark Antony

At the great man’s funeral,

And then proceeded to extol

Caesar’s virtues for the remainder of his monologue,

Until he roused the Roman masses

To avenge Caesar’s murder.

Antony ignored the rebellion

Brewing near Galilee.

He could not speak yet of the crucifixion,

Still a half century to come,

Of a poor carpenter, a fisher of men.

Now it’s the day after the Ides of March

I HAVE come to bury Caesar.

Really.

Caesar, upon his death,

Bequeathed to each Roman citizen

The sum of seventy-five drachmas.

Our Caesar, fearing the anger of

Chicago workers, dangled a carrot,

A minimum wage raise to thirteen dollars

Per hour in four years.

In FOUR YEARS!

Oh yes. I have come to BURY Caesar.

Our gentle Caesar,

In his penetrating recognition

Of our anxieties,

Pledged to improve our mental health services. . .

By closing half the Chicago clinics.

At the disarray in the public schools,

He wept tears of pure gold

That ran rivulets into the pockets of

His honorable charter school cronies.

Then he crossed the Rubicon,

Embarked on a forced march to

Shutter more than fifty schools.

I tell you

I have come to bury our honorable Caesar.

Had Brutus and Cassius, both honorable men,

Stabbed their Caesar on the South Side of Chicago,

His murder might have been averted,

Or so some Romans say, lamenting his fate.

I say not so, for Chicago’s Caesar

Stood fast opposing a trauma center

Which might have staunched the flow

From those unkindest cuts of all.

I come to bury Caesar,

Not to praise him.

Nor will I lend my ears

To those who sycophate at his feet,

Paint pictures that can never

Obliterate the blood he has let.

I come to bury Caesar.

I come to elect Jésus.

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