It’s okay, Daddy.

when I think of hospitals

or delusion

or apple juice

in those little containers

I think of this little girl

five six at most

telling her father

she could see ghosts

only a thin

cloth barrier between us

overhearing

her father sobbing

please

he said

honey

there’s nothing there

I think of her

not listening

hallucinating

and wonder

how she is doing

if the ghosts

are still talking