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Haunted Prague
Beneath the Spanish Synagogue,
Is where they put the Golem,
In pieces, splintered by black magic.
The Old Jewish Cemetery,
Is stuffed with headstones,
Like teeth in a mouldering mouth.
And the list of names on the church wall,
Karel, Biebelmannova, Marta, Josef, Hugo, Leo,
The endless list…
I know Prague is haunted,
And not just because of the grottos,
Honeycombed with crypts.
Or because of Hitler’s black shadow,
Peering down from Prague Castle,
Raven-like, scenting the breeze.
More than the ancient churches,
It’s that the worst has happened here,
And the stained stones tell a story words can’t,
To the bulging Britons and pudgy Americans,
Who pause long enough to listen with their souls.
But in Prague they know how to live with ghosts,
Prague where black cats sleep on graves,
Where houses melt before your eyes,
And the spirits just mingle in without a word.
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