Online Exclusive

From Spring of the Floor Tom
There were all these tricks
We used to navigate

The night sky including
Having it out midsentence

With midcentury sax
The Russian language worked

Like painting school for me
The word for tongue a bubbly


It was to be an era
When whistles were restored

To their riverlike potential
You were in the background

Nursing     A speck of the ocean
Would prove to be      A great leader to us

Which all happened      Before
In the apple blood of our Alaskan youth


When dust took itself
For a priori SEX-Y

I did what I always did that is
I silenced the amphibian joy in me

& refused to cooperate
& when dust imagined itself

I slept in the drum
With all the moss I could find


But these were only ever first steps
For papyrus always came crawling back

(tongue out) & then what?
If we had focused

If we had focused the cypress
I think the cypress

We had raised
Would’ve gone far, Love


As a child I had the appearance of a pier
When fish swam under me

I heard nothing but praise
But fall came (once, I think)

& as we drowned a goulash dream
A dream of goulash made me feel

I should be inland instead, a one-man band
Sponsors for everyone & everything


A day like any other
Five hundred pages

With no contractions
The roses revealed

Their own selfishness
I qualified for something

We slipped into sea
Half sibilant half shilling


Desire     a synapse
Which left unattended
For any longer might
Have repositioned itself
As a salt marsh inside you
Your music taught me
Democracy the kind
Puppies knew not to touch
Or better yet revise 

Thibault Raoult is an assistant editor at The Georgia Review and the author of Person Hour (BlazeVOX) and Disposable Epics (Caketrain). He lives in Athens, Georgia, where he also edits RealPoetik and performs as Historic Sunsets.