Poetry: Selections from Jason Melvin

 49 Birds +1

I watch the birds outside my –

     office / playroom / game room /

     where-shit-gets-thrown room

window

poke at the ground

small black birds

not sure what kind

(am I even a poet?)

without counting

I’d say fifty

as soon as the 1

takes flight

the 49 others

spring up     follow

a black nervous wave

then plummet     reset

resume the peck

on the weedy lawn

over          and over again

1’s fear

                    (or is he just fucking with them?)

     dictating

over all other’s

     hunger

An ill-fitting suit jacket

one sleeve

is shorter than the other

the buttons     don’t line up

the collar     has a crease

and the point     keeps

rubbing your chin

     so

you tug on the sleeve

adjust your shoulders

     try

to correct some symmetry

but don’t move too much

you may rip down the back

you feel like a fool

but you have to wear it

it’s the one you were born with

but as long as you smile

just right     laugh

tell a few jokes

     maybe

no one will notice

Shed

We need a new shed

it’s brown metal roof 

has faded to off-white

it’s white metal sides

have rusted orange

sliding doors broken

falling from their hinges

It’s been a to-do-list item

for a few years now

but the odd truth is

I like to watch its dying

the change

its decay

an allure to its aging

the beauty in slow death

Small II

I say to my wife

the beach isn’t very busy

but a look

left or right

shows thousands

dotting the beachscape

     Not busy

We sway and thrash

the ocean floor

constantly changing

beneath our feet

red flag day

and the Atlantic

wants to pull us in

while simultaneously 

push us out

measure your significance

stand in the ocean

so blue

and beautiful

this raging monster

and look out

and see that

It doesn’t end

Chicago

somehow

she forgot how

to be dark

10pm

overcast

a glow shrouds

and illuminates

at 5am

darkness still

a forgotten memory

but silence

somehow

permeates

and whispers

Jason Melvin is a father, husband, grandfather, and metals processing center manager, who lives just north of Pittsburgh. His work has appeared in Roi Faineant, The Beatnik Cowboy, Jake, Olney, Punk Noir and others. His poems were nominated for Pushcarts by Bullshit Lit and Outcast. His first chapbook, Wrong Things, is available courtesy of Bullshit Lit. He can be found on Twitter @Jason5Melvin, Instagram @JasonMelvin5