THE MORNING of MY DEATH by Jim Zola

Poem previously published in WINK: Writers IN the Know issue 2

The Morning of My Death

For it most certainly will be morning,
someone forgets to shut the front door. 
The dog wanders out and away 

and is forgotten, adopted 
by a family with eight children– 
one more mouth doesn’t matter.

The door comes unhinged. How many times 
did I take a hammer and whack the damn thing 
back into place? The house too is falling apart.

Somewhere in the confusion is a list of things 
that need doing. 

I told you I was going out to get the paper. 
I forgot to shut the door.

—Jim Zola

Bio: 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. His poetry and photo art have appeared in many journals through the years. Publications include a chapbook — The One Hundred Bones of Weather (Blue Pitcher Press) — and a full length poetry collection — What Glorious Possibilities (Aldrich Press). His newest manuscript is titled Monday After the End of the World.  He currently lives in Greensboro, NC.

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