Country Music
an online journal of poetry
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Jessie Janeshek

You Said Our Summer of Love

would start at the coaster.
On that huge wooden
dachshund tongue we’d strut in
your panhandle leg
wrapped in my X-ray apron.
Green-limbed, I’d cry pig and whistle
shudder the white plush
that stuffed Japheth’s sack.
Too sad to go home again?
It was just the five ambien
but the dogtail inhaler
worked wonders, revived me.
I shot at your country
until the jimmying planks
of Noah’s ark threw me
into the aubergine pit with the snake
and no one’ll live through this
my dear, bourbon heat
smearing the valley like napalm.