Macabre/Number 5/Voodoo

by Richard Dunwich

For works with similar titles, see Voodoo.

Voodoo

Nightlong, daylong, the drums were never still --
Daylong, nightlong, they whispered in our dreams --
Nightlong, daylong, they wove the web of ill:
A dozen miles at sea we caulked our seams,
Nourished strange growths and festered in the sun,
Low in the water with our sodden beams;
Westward the harrying shadows sprawled and spun,
Eastward the mudflats simmered in foul glare;
And the drums mumbled, rumbled, never done:
By the third festering day we were aware
Of something ominous in our pantomine --
We twitched like rabbits taken in a snare --
We moved in unison and jerked in time
Like sorcerer's dolls to that compelling rhyme.

-- Richard Dunwich

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