
'Sortes Sanctorum': A Poem by E. Samples

SORTES SANCTORUM
It is true what they say about the Diviner of Nine Halls
it rattles as it walks
it spits as it breathes
She speaks in chanting chimes waiting for the devil’s cats
it secrets as it shakes
it reddens as it drinks
Drying leaves in the shortened day
crunching as it sweeps
Through bogging drill and smeltering
asylum as it hums
Beneath her hunting moon
Inverted friar’s lantern
Calls the page, the passage
Florescence as it reads
E. Samples is one part West Virginia Mountain Blue ink, two parts Kentucky Bluegrass Black ink, and a medicinal dash of Tennessee Red-inked Whiskey. Currently living in Southern Indiana, her spectrum is shifting to include accents of cardinal, sunflower, and sweet corn. Her poetry appears in fws: a journal of literature & art, skin issue. She is on twitter @emilysamples
Photograph from the Library of Congress.