ghost baby

I have a ghost baby.Nothing real.
My consolation prize?A salami sandwich.

Sticky rice, I thought you were real
I’ve been eating like food is my new job
It’s been like tasting 3-D, like Avatar
My breasts are exploding
My stomach is tight
And there’s something floating around inside of me, but it’s just ghost baby
Just a ghost, just a ghost
Just 9 weeks of fear and joy
And sharing it
And knowing there are always possibilities
And sure enough here they come
Possibility you make a lousy date.

I never made plans for you sticky rice
They’re yours to make.
Still, I thought I’d got something done.

Posted via email from subvert with heather gold

One Response to “ghost baby”

  1. myers Says:

    In 5th grade I had an angry young hippie teacher, mr ewing, who lost his job in the Houston ISD because he read to us a poem about his wife’s miscarriage. He took the risk to teach. I remember the line ‘boogie to the muzak in a babies blood coat’ and his exposition of the scene in the dr’s office.
    The baby bell resonates father than most.
    From time to time I thank Mr Ewing, where ever he is.
    Thank your phantom for your real experience;ghosts aren’t union, be sure to tip.

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