Execution Dock by Simon Clarke

Three tides washed over me before you covered me in tar. But still I see you sail by, laughing at me in my cage above the Thames. You see my empty eye sockets, the strips of putrefying flesh, the wind jerking my bones when there is no wind. A final resting place? No, I’m still here, dreaming of Port-au-Prince, my woman, and my gold. I see you sail by, and I am laughing. Voodoo promised I would live forever, and so I am. I drip contagion into the water you all drink—my pestilence will be in your city forever.