She asked God for a baby – not a human
child, just some tender new
root of a thing to love. In the garden 

she scooped up the helpless
furred creature found curled
among spring-green shoots, 

never bothered to consider
whether it already had a mother.
What should we make of it now

that the blessing she named
and claimed has died in a box 
under fluorescent lights?

How foolish to believe
simply getting what we want
always means an answered prayer.