Contributor: Jim Zola

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powder that is crusted on the surface
drifting still remembered forgotten
that falls in large wet flakes that falls in small flakes
melted and refrozen marked by wolves
marked by man blowing packed down in beards
melted mixed with mud mixed with husky shit
crusted on top but soft underneath
that looks blue in the early morning
between your fingers or toes little balls
that cling to fur drifted indoors slush
the idea mounded on dead bodies
that never reach the ground shaken down
from objects in the wind shaken down
and then mixed with sky-falling angels
that looks like it's falling upward
that makes halos sparkling with sunlight
sparkling with moonlight sparkling with headlights
mixed with breath night falling on water drifts
containing the imprint of crazy lovers
swirling that drives you nuts that blinds you
that can be sculpted into the delicate
corsages in the mouth that hides the whole
village drifts you fall into and die
avalanche that burns your scalp and eyelids
glazed with ice ordinary outside
my door where the world has melted


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Jim Zola is a poet and photographer living in North Carolina. He currently works as a children's librarian. He has done lots of other stuff too.