Ghost baby is talking to me again.
I don't have time for this--the roses
need pruning and it's time for my afternoon
tea. Want some apricot tea, Ghost Baby?
What food, Ghost Baby? Why's my love
the love you need? I tried to retrieve
you from my belly, but you wouldn't form.
Why do you stay ghost, Ghost Baby?
And now my parts
that would've given you body
are too worn. I'm tired, Ghost Baby.
Stop crying for your mother.
There's not some kind of Biblical
miracle late birth in my future,
Ghost Baby. The tea's warm enough,
if you want to come out of my hips
for a hover in the garden, I'll set you
an extra cup. There's cookies, Ghost Baby.
You can go about your business crying, creaking,
and wailing, or you can do like me--shut up,
watch his shirts dry on the laundry line,
and drink your tea.