The ghost spooks me stupid one August morning. Insists on a hot bath with rose petals. Folds my towels into swans. The ghost is partial to The Wild, The Innocent. Bellows JUMP A LITTLE LIGHTER. Bounces higher on bed springs. The ghost calls me honey cunt because I hate it. Orders jerk chicken to go. Tips thirty percent. The ghost carouses ‘til five am. Pulls on my toes. Says it’s time. Pick up the phone, love. It’s time. The ghost follows the ambulance. Holds my hand in the waiting room.

Emergency contact, they ask.

You won’t believe this, I say, but.