And the houses facing it are dark cells.
And then you come to a block where the rickety, thin tenements
Rise like gnawed, patient pencils tracing crazy star lines
In the sky.
And then you come to the Synagogue of Judas the Servant,
A little church of the Jews
Crouching on its knees
And enveloped in the rags of cheap saloons and hovels.
It thrusts its iron star into the night