Alex taught me how to make this in my dreams for you when he was being King of the Jews in his joy for all the dancers who danced in the desert and knew only love.
How does one respond to the terror of Oct 7? For Matthew Lippman, it’s through poetry. In King of the Jews, Lippman names many who perished, were kidnapped, held hostage. He names friends, students, rock stars, too. Lippman honors—and loves—them all. He even anoints them king, King of the Jews. Whether talking with his dog on the morning six hostages were found murdered or with Chabad boys on the ferry to Ellis Island, Lippman takes us straight to the heat, the “center of the earth … the center of the name.” These poems hold the beauty and the horror of the world and the deep longing, living within Lippman’s naked, aching heart. From Brooklyn to Brookline, Jerusalem to the Golan Heights, we all share one joy, one pain: “No matter what you do as a Jew / you grieve as a Jew.” Hail, hail, King of the Jews. Matthew Lippman, Kol Hakavod.
—Diane Gottlieb, editor of Manna Songs: Stories of Jewish Culture & Heritage
Matthew Lippman has long been my poet king— for making me feel seen and heard, remembered and alive, for his rock-n-roll hand in laughter and sadness, and for his unique ability to do through poetry “what kings do/they make people see what their best selves can be.” Once again, if impossibly, Lippman manages to revive the human spirit with Kings of the Jews. Here is a lyrical, post 10/7 Book of Lamentations—a book that did not want to be written, should never have been written, but which pours, dirge-like, from every crack in the grieving poet’s heart, spilling out, name by name, story by story, song by doleful song, into the diasporic aftermath of this darkest day in recent memory, urging us amid the continued horror “to remember that we are all people, and we must not forget.”
—Sara Lippmann, author of Leech.
About the Author
Matthew Lippman is the author of 7 poetry collections. His collection Mesmerizingly Sadly Beautiful (2020) was the recipient of the 2018 Levis Prize. He lives in Boston where he teaches English Literature and Creative Writing.
"Avinu Malkeinu"
Avinu Malkeinu
(almighty and merciful)
When I sat in synagogue,
I did not look at the rabbi.
I watched the trees.
Avinu Malkeinu. Our father our king.
I couldn’t get my eyes off the trees
in their nakedness and green.
Their green moving into yellow
moving into red and death,
their dying leaves and the restoration of the spirit.
What does that mean? To restore a spirit?
It means that humility is a disappearance into a nakedness no one has ever seen.
Avinu Malkeinu.
I sat in synagogue and couldn’t keep my eyes off the trees.
I wanted to fall into them barefoot and pregnant with the world and the rabbi vanished.
I wanted to take off my Rosh Hashana synagogue clothes
and walk into the trees to be my rabbi,
to be my Torah,
to be my casting off of all the sins.
We have sinned, brother.
We bomb villages.
We hide in corners and eat sugar.
We look away from the homeless people and lock our car doors.
We steal from the bakery.
We blow up oil fields in the name of God
and say bad things about people behind their backs.
Avinu Malkeinu.
I wanted to walk naked into the trees
out of the sanctuary
into the sanctuary of autumn trees
and fall to the ground,
my flesh torn and soft,
my muscles like birds
whistling out of my body—
little missiles crashing through the air in song.
"Breaking of the Vessels"
Breaking of the Vessels
This morning, I became King of the Jews.
They found 6 dead hostages, and the dog walked me into the center of earth.
I was not King of the Jews but when we got there,
I was most certainly King of the Jews
and I was nowhere and everywhere
and all the hostages were dead, and we were all of the hostages, everywhere,
all of us,
taken by a history with so many words
there is nothing left to say.
Because when you are in a tunnel, and they blow your face off
there is no such thing as the past.
The dog said, Come on boychick,
and I said, Where are we going?
and she said, We are already there
and when we arrived
there we were,
all of us Jews
and the hostages were gone
and they had names
and these are their names,
Hersh and Alexander and Carmel and Eden and Ori and Almog.
And the center of the earth was the center of their names and so I asked the dog, Why are you taking me there?
and then I wept.
At the center of the earth, I broke open and said to the dog, Now, I am King of the Jews,
and she said, Yes you are.
And she said, It means you are everywhere and nowhere in the center of the earth, in the center of the name,
and that’s when everything got obliterated and everything became clear
and the dog was finally done doing its business.
"They Are All Kings"
They Are All Kings
Natalie and Ben and Ori and Eliora are King of the Jews on Tuesdays and Saturdays.
on Sundays and Wednesdays.
They go to their King of Jews Mall
and spend money at Sephora and Shake Shack.
They walk around in their Lululemon shorts and gold chains,
their homes in Roslindale and Newton and Brookline
and hold hands and pretend there is love
because there is love.
They talk about boys and girls and car washes and happiness
and get lonely with each other and far away
their Israeli counterparts are doing the same thing,
but not the same thing.
Natalie and Ben and Ori and Eliora are the suburban King of the Jews in an America
that does not like Jews
but they don’t care, these teenagers wearing their Jewish stars and chais
trying to fit in, never fitting in,
saying fuck you everyone we are King of the Jews
walking the aisles of CVS
buying hair product and paste-on-nails and bags of flamin’ hot Cheetos
while their Israeli counterparts listen to Asaf Avidan and dance
in the wake of sorrow and survival.
They are all kings, Natalie and Ben and Eliora and Ori,
late night Facetiming and laughing and holding steady in their own secret sorrow
because what they know is that their Israeli counterparts
are their brothers and sisters no matter the music—
the Taylor Swift, the Noa Kirel the Bal Shem Tov Baruch Hashem
dancing done in the dust and fields of parking lots and desert daylight.
It’s a sad world.
It’s a beautiful world
and these kings make me feel like I am part of something that has nothing to do with me,
like my time has come and gone
and so I will pick them up in my little bent out of shape Toyota
anywhere anytime
when they call and tell me they’ve run out of money, it’s late and they are tired
and can I get them,
they will be in front of the movie theater at Legacy Place,
right next to J.P. Licks
and the falafel street vendor, Moshe,
on some street in Jerusalem that I don’t know—
have never been—but don’t worry, I will find it,
I will come and get you.
Alex taught me how to make this in my dreams for you