Miraculous Every One

I held a newborn baby
The artist’s genius fully realized
in the hands, fingers, fingernails

These in contrast to the legs,
so spare, as if only penciled-in,
and the face loose, saggy, generic

Eyes, mouth, and ears,
like the fingers, as-good-as
or perhaps better-than they’ll ever be

Her eyes as hungry as her mouth, searching,
searching. Her determination something
astonishing at just five days

Does the mother have those small,
perfectly round ears? Is the reddish hair from the father?
Who has the long, exquisite fingers?

Was their coming together a giving, or a taking?
The conception a ploy, an oversight?
Was there crying and blame? Or just an ‘Oh, well’?

What world will she see with those eager eyes?
Other eyes that say, “You are beautiful. I wanted you.”?
It’s likely. Couples, a long list of them

Are waiting, afraid to hope, daring to pray
That she will be theirs.