A Sonnet to the Sculler

Curse in a cup of rotted egg and lime
concoction of evil steeping in dreams
hear the whispers of the sinister whom
live in the black shadows of the dark mind
while seeking all alive on Halloween
bringing piety to gripping horrors
grasping to feed on the souls of children.
lifeless adrift under the bridge of sighs
the servient Sculler to guide them home
with hewn wooden oars from a righteous cross
evilness in thoughts of heaven or hell.
The lone sculler plies under the great bridge
for on this night during late October
he smiles at all the new fares that arrive.