Dragon's Court

A person in tallit walking on your walls; keeping sad vigil alone in the city at night. Listen: old courtyards and shrines echo like a dusty, chapped heart. You are a psalmbook made of clay and iron; your every wall a melody, your every stone a prayer, when moonlight streams into your Kabbalah streets, and your freezing beauty stands bare. You are a dark talisman fitted into this country, wrapped in grey moss and lichen, every wall a parchment, every stone a scripture.