Poetry by Jeremy Daugherty

      Nicholas Erwin CC




Dirty Denim Funeral


hand-me-down navy button-ups
cigarette yellow stained wife-beaters

underneath. Goodwilled jeans with holes
on the ass. little toes exposed out of socks

hot dogs from the gas station
grab Bud’s from there, too

those hurting the most bring Jäger
post up in a corner

play that song she used to love
I yell        not that one you idiot. 

no money for any polished marble,
no grand parade. just my white trash

family grieving and getting sloshed
in a public park, in the middle of the day





​Screamin’ Green Screams


within my trailer park
there was a communal Razor scooter

that we white trash children would consistently
pull from the dumpster. 

its wheels previously an iridescent
emerald, but now a stained glass

that survived a Saharan dust storm. 
it’s disheveled appearance matching

the Goodwill populace
of the poor in Unpleasant Valley 

that we all inhabited.
we boys would throw fists over 

access to the broken
scooter, not realizing

we fought over trash–
while one block over each kid had their own

they let us poor boys and girls
deface each other

never realizing
not everyone has to

reach into dumpsters
to have a childhood




Jeremy Daugherty is an Appalachian poet and recent MFA graduate from Miami University. His work explores themes of family, addiction, and memory, drawing from his personal experiences and Appalachian roots. Jeremy is currently a visiting professor at Miami University.
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