I had not realisedHands and fingers could be so smallSo pink and crinkly, nails and allA little tiny human beingComplete, perfectExcept that you were notI could not hearI did not want to knowThe complicated diagnosisThey were pressing in upon usI’d never heard of Ebstein’s AnomalyJust wanted to hold you with my eyesThrough the plastic pod of the incubatorMoving so the reflections didn’t take awayA single little part of you. While you lay swathed in linesBathed in fluorescent lightsAnd fed on oxygenWe bit our nails in the waiting room.‘A rare condition,’ the doctor’s careful wordsPronounced at last, oracle-likeWould later pour through