PUNK POETRY: Driving Through Maine by Jamie Beth Cohen

Driving Through Maine


when you’re unexpectedly

invited to dinner

but you hate to arrive 

empty handed


you find an open gas station

on Route 1

with a young clerk


her eye

not really black 

but shades of purple

and yellow

and green


her hair 

defiantly swept up 

off her face 

held back by a polka dot scrunchy

the kind you wore in eighth grade


her ponytail

the color of Taylor’s

old money blonde

but she’s probably heard 

dish-water and dirty her whole life


you buy a two-liter of rootbeer

and some festive cookies.


the young clerk approves

says she doesn’t buy 

pretty cookies

because they never 

taste good

but these 

are “the real deal.”


and you never pray,

but tonight 

you hope for the best.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

EDITOR'S NOTE: Something Old, Something New (aka WE'RE OPEN FOR REVIEW REQUESTS)

Hey, pals!  Due to an incredible influx of acceptances (we're stacked for pubs until AUGUST), we had to temporarily shut our doors.  I am delighted to announce we are again  OPEN FOR SUBMISSIONS !  We've updated our guidelines; please read thoroughly before sending your awesome words/art/whatever.  AND!!!!  I am VERY excited to announce a new branch of the magazine!  For the first time, Punk Monk is open to review requests!  We will be reviewing books, collections, novellas, chapbooks, and microchaps. (Fiction, poetry, non-fiction, art, hybrid, ANYTHING accepted.) Our aim is to publish 1-4 reviews a month.   All reviews will be written by me, C.E. Hoffman .  This has been a long time coming, inspired by my personal frustrations seeking cool alt lit spaces that accept ARCs for review.  Many mags accept pre-written reviews, but won't review works in-house. This creates an unfortunate barrier for authors trying to promote their work....
Read more

If I Had A Son, I Would Teach Him About Evolution

I bled through the crotch of my pants and the Wonder Woman underwear I bought two and a half years ago on sale at Target while eating chocolate chip cookies in my bed. I put my hand between my thighs to wipe away the blood and realized, that God had once again decided to not put the embryo of Jesus Junior in my womb, leaving me free to continue reading blog posts tagged atheism. --Em Ramser
Read more

PUNK PROSE: Flick the Clipper, Write for Ten, Eat Some Doritos, Fall Asleep and Dream of a Nicer Time by Lacey Cohen

  i like to say i’m not a poet and i still don’t think i am but it’s not because i don’t like poetry (which i still mostly don’t) but more likely because i’m afraid my words won’t be as good as they are when i write other things because when you write poetry every single word matters but when you write a story or a letter you’re able to think softer and hide behind a scene or a fake character that you say isn’t yourself but usually it is and you think the reader doesn’t know that so it’s less scary than writing ambiguous poetry i get some of my best ideas when i’m high and i can never write when i’m high because i can’t articulate the idea as well when i’m high but i know it’s still going to be one of my best because i’m high and, sidenote, i hate that people use the word ‘high’ in reference to all drugs because when i say i’m high i only ever mean pot but when i read certain stories there are characters who are also high but they did hard, scary, addictive drugs that i would neve...
Read more