Last Day in Prague
Sonnet © 2020 by Matthew de Lacey Davidson
Exiting the Metro as I walk
towards Široká, stepping by the grey
buildings, close to the medieval clock
which already I had seen (the other day),
I scurry to the entrance, slightly short
of breath. A man, yarmulke on his head,
morosely disapproves: “So sorry,” the retort,
“it’s closed — shabbat.” I understand, and so instead,
the innkeeper suggests I go next door
to see the Jewish Cemetery through
distorted stained-glass windows. Wanting more,
I buy a stereoscope so I may view
the sight, despite my doing so is crass:
a life seen through two sordid bits of glass.