Research: Journals
The Journal
Past Issues
26.1
Lynn Melnick
Oh Funny Birdsong Oh LoveThe letters I send to others
won’t reroute or reply; it is only us.
Please if you would stride
a length to me; I shall not forget
not to wreck my hands.
This next correspondence
a curtsy to you. Precise. Freaked
with devotion, it will be all there is.
I keep forgetting to tell you.
I saw the flowers spite-grown
ordered outside that moribund house.
They weren’t a bit delicate
but spire-stalked and steady.
May this be what happens in place
of grandness: an anyway silk
and altered purple. By chance I fear
everyone but you. By choice
we are the only living thing.
Two pigeons on an inside sill.
Ours will be an unusual bliss.
