before punk was Punk,
before even she was “street
urchins” or “worthless”
she was “rotten wood
used as tinder”
before god took her safety pins
and pierced the world
she was already
promised to the flame
(i too
am kindling)
they say rock and roll’s
post-war anxiety headache
got so bad he took his ax
and jack-nicholsoned Punk
onto 1974’s pavement
fully disformed
she decrees:
“NO DECREES”
and chugs a molotov
she is beautiful
like a burning cop car
(“faggot” is also
made to burn
from the tinder
of witchfires
i rise flamboyant)
this god is not dead
this Punk is not dead
she resurrects in the flames
black leather phoenix
burning in the small places
every day by every show
she is very much like me
(and sure that’s
why i thought
i wrote better
drunk like hey
this alcohol is so
damn flammable
you know
we spent three
whole months
on fire that hot
summer
and it’s the same
chemical in
cars too and
we drove fast and
we drove loud and
oh god we ran and—)
Punk grabs me by shoulders
lovingly socks me
across the face
“HEY KID, NOW YOU’RE
JUST OVERTHINKING IT”
Grey is an ill omen currently manifesting as a flock of blackbirds in Salt Lake City, Utah. She currently serves as managing editor for ellipsis…Literature and Art and in the past has fulfilled the roles of poetry editor and productions editor. She is a judge for the 2018 IronPen competition at Utah Arts Festival. You can find her interactive poetry at https://greyb.itch.io/