Radioactive Country Song by Callie Garnett

In my 
I forget how to 
explain “pathetic 
fallacy.” Ev’ryone
waits. My grand-
mother listens
patiently, wounded
by the table. It is late;
the coldest of my 
tentacles which
lives beneath my
ring finger re-
tracts as we 
avoid the chicken 
gel around the 
island whereup-
on a chicken 
          Life is
tough for jelly. 
Willie Nelson knows;
he asks the window 
if it’s crying or just
misted from that
cornet playing
in the song itself, 
a Second Mouth
The glass of an
idle listener left 
by the narrow sill 
and in it half-a 
lemon. Nelson’s 
window rubs 
the rain; mine 
sprinklers on its 
the cries of 
young grass being 
sprayed with 
Zinc. Then in 
my dream I 
lecture her some
more. She’s never 
cowed by earth’s
receding; “it’s a 
smiley-face we 
just lost track of.”
It’s as though she 
were a mouse in-
side a book be-
hind a sink and 
not a woman 
marching in 
her violet taupe in-
side or 
           going out
again in her
clothing. She 
goes to get the 
heavy cream. “Hey 
look, is that an 
eardrop?” I ask 
no one in her 
bathroom thinking 
as I pinch it o-
ceans pour forth 
porcelain in God’s 
mansion like wrong-
secreting chlorine 
cream. Because 
from every fixture 
buzzing sounds im-
passive bank on 
a 4.5 hits 
in the night or 
what a fur hydrangea-
colored bathmat 
in my shoes. 
“One day,” 
I can’t say
when, an armor 
will enfold the 
town but every 
outside planet 
every boot-
kicked boot-
height lantern 
shall show smoke 
collecting all 
about our ankles.