by Jim Zola

I can recite the names
of all the bones in the human body,
two hundred and six, a parlor trick
I practice at parties. When drunk,
I rap them in cartoon voices.

Daffy sez carpus and tarsus and zygometric.

The other night while making love
she stopped and laughed and said
I have an ambulance in my head.
But the ambulance was in the night.
Flashing lights played tag
around the bedroom walls.
Good neighbors, we uncuddled
to peek from behind the curtains,
curious to learn which old man
was shuffling closer to god.

Dem bones dem bones dem old bones

This morning I watched
a scattering of starlings
tossed against
the white fractured sky.

Jim Zola is a poet and photographer living in North Carolina.

Artwork by: Emily Wiethorn

Emily Wiethorn (b.1991) is a photographic artist currently based in Lincoln, NE where she will graduate with her MFA in Studio Art at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, where she is an Instructor of Record and holds a Graduate Teaching Assistantship. She received her BFA in Photography from Northern Kentucky University. She has most recently been awarded the 2017 SPE Student Award for Innovations in Imaging, was a Critical Mass finalist in 2017, a finalist for The Texas Photographic Society’s National Photography Award, and is a featured artist in the spring 2018 issue of PDNedu. Her work has been published online with Musee Magazine, Lenstratch, Loosen Art, among others. Her work has been exhibited both nationally and internationally in China and Italy. She works primarily in self-portraiture where she explores notions of feminine identity, societal constructs of femininity, and self-discovery.

Instagram: @emily.wiethorn