2-7-70

what you left behind

with baby teeth; wasn’t

in it—one for each of us;

five-month bump; wasn’t

another woman. what you left

but a was, an is.

an is. a button

wasn’t a purse, brimming

a phone number with three twos

wasn’t a coat that hid your

a key you gave me to

behind wasn’t a wasn’t

an am,

unfound.

mary-catherine jones is a freelance writer based in New York. In the advertising world she has won some awards for brands like Target, Aveda and Southwest Airlines. She has work in the forthcoming Poetry International as well as an essay currently online at Web Del Sol Review of Books. She lives in New Hampshire.