What We Leave Behind by Katherine J. Zumpano

my mother found photographs beneath the refrigerator

in our first house. I always wondered

how they were lost, why no one noticed

they were gone or knocked on the door to ask for them.

maybe they fell from the fridge, dropped

by a weak magnet, or maybe

they were stored in a box above, stuffed so full of memories

that a few escaped undetected. maybe

they belonged to the house; taken to remember

them by, in case they forget. I have not

forgotten.

I wonder what I’ve left behind: a pebble picked up

at the park / a bobby pin blending

into carpet / a chip in the paint / an earring

back / flecks of nail polish / the sense of knowing

who I was and what I wanted /

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Katherine J. Zumpano is a Pisces, poet, and WWU grad. She lives in Bellingham, WA, with her boyfriend and houseplants. When she isn't writing, she enjoys baking, candlemaking, and watching Star Wars. Follow her @katzumpano on Instagram and Twitter for more poems.