Kafka

Kafka

It’s time to go to work. A Tuesday, say.
Rain falling, the sun squandering its strength
Over a landscape composed of gray clouds.
The bridges of Prague, delicate, equine,
Vault over the river. You’ll be thinking
Soon of how to keep factory workers
Safe. But there is time yet to imagine
A story about an old bridge that grows
Tired of people walking on its back.