The radio turned on again
by itself.
The first time to a great shock of yelling
as our women won a gold medal.
The next time to the news,
a stable voice trying to make everything
sound sober and plain.
My husband calls him ghosty,
this invisible guest
and wonders if he likes other things
like radio plays and jazz.
Life is busy
with puzzles and laundry
so there isn’t much time
to wonder why ghosty
chose us.
But when the radio blasts us
with a gardening show,
it makes us strangely happy
like we have done something special,
like we have somehow
earned a ghost.
And then my husband thinks
to ask me if the radio has an alarm
and I know it does
before I check.
I tell him “yes”
and we laugh
realizing our son
must have been playing with it
though I can tell
by the quiet
after our laughing
that we both miss
the ghost that never was.