Nathaniel King

Parting the Waves


you will not see me, furrowing my chest

over the price of dandelion-leaves. in the

reeds i caught a fish, scaling the depths of

egypt. the next day it vomited salt.



at nights i write to you, and wake up

on fire, ruptured in the sea-tress beneath

your thigh. the walls swim sometimes 

with unknown potential.



you keep a string within your 

back, a taut wire set to monkey 

hand-claps — i can see it through 

your spine. unspool.



sometimes your eyes are 

a heron-fleet guided through 

a vacuum. moses wept his way

to exile, we swam there on a whaleheart.



bring your breath back to me. the

darkness has been sacked, curtains

lit. no-moon is a bone. dogs chase their 

brains. the night smarts & blinks out.


Nathaniel King is a Creative Writing student from UEA, Norwich. He currently resides in Ontario, Canada where he is completing his undergraduate degree and working on his first poetry collection. More writing can be found at

Nathaniel's work is featured in Elbow Room Vol Six