Sinisterium

By Sam Dotson

How the bell tolls,

sounding at the hour.

Not to mark the time,

but something much more dour.

That taste in your mouth,

errant vicissitude,

turn from sweet to sour.

Ashes then and ashes now.

Ring around the Rosie,

and we all fall down.

A cacophony of sirens

binding men in liar’s irons.

See there so hidden in the fog,

there the pyres, there the pylons.

Sinister in their construction,

obscure in their function.

Can you hear them shrieking?

Can you hear their desperation?

Mark the date,

for your infernal consultation.

I set the scene

you play the part.

Watch right there;

shadows in the dark.

---

Sam Dotson is a fourth year Anthropology major at the University of Cincinnati and he has been writing on and off since he was about 16. Currently, his goal is just to make enough money from his writing that he can travel and write even more about it! If you want to see more, you can check out his website, poemsbysam.com, where he posts daily.

Featured art: Burnt by Sophie Caswell