Un-Used Numbers Poem by Mandy Baldwin

There are unused numbers on my phone.
I don’t know why I keep them there when I will never call.
To dial them would be to call the time I was a daughter.
In my mind’s eye they go along with boxes left unopened
And the door closing on what used to be your home.
(I can still see the view from the window
Still smell the Coty perfume
Sunday roasts still steam the picture windows,
there are still flowers in every room)
And in some dimension you are still there together
Passing over the time of the dingy walls
And the paintings far too large for a room that was far too small
And the years that didn’t take the grief from your face.
Neither of you will ever call again; we’ve said our last
And yet, the numbers are still there, and my heart keeps them – just in case.