Dinner With A Ghost

The ghost is eating pizza,

nodding silently

as if he approves

of our conversation.

I wish he’d say something,

anything--

but he chooses not to,

stays mum & sullen.

It’s hard not to assume

you’re responsible

in the face

of the silent treatment--

But I’ll brush it off,

focus my attention elsewhere

& hope that, in time,

he comes around.

My ten-year-old son gave me the first line, and approves of the resulting poem, though says he thinks it’s rather sad. This is for Corey’s prompt to the Real Toads: ALL IN THE FAMILY