Nathaniel Doom Poem by Dylan KD.

Nathaniel Doom



For as long as the skin
of the squid is the pigeon,
the ivory horn is the
mannequin's digit.
The rust of the anchor
blankets the phantom
who sits in a tub of mules.

He twiddles the appendages
of ocelots.
Who's cries banished the
noise of an arranged murder.
He sits with liquids
he has drawn.
The apprehension of his palm;
the noose to fill on doomsday.

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