As a child every house you entered
had a different smell. One, the stale

pine scent of stifled prayers, another
sweet rotting fruit, sauerkraut

and tangled yarns of regret.
What does this house exhale?

You wear socks so unmatched they share no
common borders. The world outside

is foreign. So you hide in the folds
of the couch, in kisses of lamplight.

You crawl into the too loose skin
of what you choose to remember.





Jim Zola has worked in a warehouse, as a security guard, in a bookstore, as a teacher for Deaf children, as a toy designer for Fisher Price, and currently as a children's librarian. Published in many journals through the years, his publications include a chapbook -- The One Hundred Bones of Weather (Blue Pitcher Press) -- and a full length poetry collection -- What Glorious Possibilities (Aldrich Press). He currently lives in Greensboro, NC.

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