number eight

beulah's baby.

winter makes my skin transparent. i am not used
to being so exposed. but last night i dreamt
someone else's dream, and lost beulah's baby

in the wash. i tried to pretend nothing happened,
hanging the sheets and humming a cracked little
tune. but i could not find him, and through the last

sheet i saw beulah approaching. i was afraid,
closed my eyes and could feel her soft hands reaching
my neck. but instead her fingers grabbed at my

weak shoulders, i looked up and her eyes had gone wild.
oh how i loved her! my heart broke red and she,
as my mother of sorts, clasped me to her, said,

"don't--" and rocked me until my tears had subsided.
i tried to explain, and here comes thomas, with
the baby wrapped in that brilliant yellow scarf...