Thursday, April 11, 2013

Ghost Baby

Ghost baby is talking to me again.

She's insistent.

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.

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